


Seven Points of Conquest

by CaptainTarthister



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bed Sex, Bedroom Sex, Bodily Fluids, Brotherly advice, Canon - Book, Canon - TV, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Food Kink, Kissing, Lactation, Lactation Kink, Loud Sex, Married Couple, Married Sex, Mirror Sex, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Other tags to be added, Past Brother/Sister Incest, Porn, Porn With Plot, Post Series, Rimming, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Scars, Seduction, Shameless, Smut, Spunk Licking, Tongues, Tyrion the Sexpert, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, sex advice, so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-21 17:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14920062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainTarthister/pseuds/CaptainTarthister
Summary: Jaime Lannister has known only one woman sexually for more than half his life. Though assured of Brienne's pleasure in his arms, he feels there's more he can do for his shy wife. He turns to the most trusted expert on women in Westeros:The Hand of the King.His brother,  Tyrion Lannister.





	1. ONE

**Author's Note:**

  * For [catherineflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineflowers/gifts).



> Please note the tags. 
> 
> Jaime and Cersei are in the past for this story although he still thinks about her.  
> This is a Jaime/Brienne centric story.
> 
> ****  
> Gifting this to catherineflowers! She asked for this fic but I also want to thank her for a few favors she's okayed. This is a small gift compared to what she'll be helping us with. 
> 
> Thank you so much, catherineflowers!
> 
> ****  
> If you want scorching-hawt smut, check out the first story in our Office Hunt series:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895575

“Truly?”

Jaime Lannister squirmed at the disbelief in his dwarf brother’s face. Pinched features distorted and looking more grotesque with the frown, Tyrion turned to have a swig of wine from his golden goblet. Jaime listened to him stop before deciding to down the whole thing in a single gulp. Tyrion threw his head back, shook it, blinking rapidly then focused his mismatched eyes on him.

He put the goblet down and stacked his short arms on the table. “Tell me again in exact detail, brother.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes at him. “Why? I just told you.”

“No, no. I have to know exactly what happened. You came to me for help, brother.” He spread his hands. “I can’t be of service to you and your giant of a wife if I don’t know everything.”

“Forget it,” the chair scraped hard on the marble floor as Jaime pushed it back sharply to stand up. “I can face being ridiculed by you but I’m not going to have a hand in it with Brienne.”

“Well, you do have one hand remaining—”

_“Tyrion.”_

“When have I insulted or dishonored your wife in any way?” Tyrion pointed out, looking hurt. “So, she is. . .quite the unexpected choice—”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Must I really say our poisoned sister’s name, brother?”

Jaime grimaced. He did not regret loving Cersei. Though it had been two years since her death, he still felt her. There would always be love, but now touched with pity. His heart was now another’s, a woman worth more than all the gold and sapphires in the world. With a beauty inside her that Cersei could never come close to rivaling.

“If you’re thinking that I’m having trouble giving Brienne the satisfaction she deserves because of _Cersei_ , “ he emphasized, refusing to be strangled by the power of her memory, “you’re greatly mistaken. It took a while to stop loving her, true, but I never wanted her again after leaving King’s Landing.”

“As long as it’s clear with you and Brienne.”

Jaime sat down slowly, looking puzzled. “Do you think it’s possible? She thinks I desire Cersei still?”

“Have you told her anything similar to what you’ve just revealed?”

“I took a sword in the gut when the Night King went after her. I married her. I lie with her every night, live between her legs until the sun rises. I tell her there is no woman more honorable in the entire Westeros. How. . .why would she think that, if she does? Do you think that’s why she can’t. . .she can’t. . .” he flushed and cleared his throat. “Is that why she doesn’t seem satisfied in our bed? I think she finds pleasure but I worry she’s not very satisfied.”

“It may be a factor,” Tyrion mused. “Women are different from men, Jaime.”

“I know that.”

“No, you don’t understand. With us we can forget the rest of the world once within three feet of firm tits and a round ass. Women are not like that. Now, I know for a fact that you please your wife—”

_“How the fuck do you know that?”_

Tyrion looked at him in exasperation. “You must have gone deaf already, brother. Granted Evenfall Hall is small compared to the Red Keep but the bricks shudder from her squeals every night.” He winked. “I counted last night. You fucked her five times, didn’t you?” He grinned. “This is certainly not a boring visit. I’ll make sure to press for more visits as Hand of the King.”

“Never repeat that to Brienne or she’ll throw you to the sea. Seven hells,” Jaime said faintly, looking stunned. Brienne was a screamer, but he didn’t know the entire castle could hear her.

She was always willing. She still insisted wearing that damned shift to bed every night. Battling the undead was easier than removing the fucking garment off her.

He liked it, though. The reward was his wife’s beautiful, strong, scarred body.

Also, part of the pleasure of fucking her was she was still shy, moonlight skin exploding in a palette of gorgeous pinks and reds when in bed with him. Though hesitant, her lips never resisted his kisses. Her legs never shut him out.

 _And her cunt_.

Jaime had only fucked his sister besides Brienne. Cersei’s cunt had never been as wet as Brienne’s. Not even close. She was tight during their first time together in Eel Alley.

When he fucked Brienne the first time, her tightness came close to unmanning him. Then her cries. Lusty, throaty sounds of pleasure. He was a man with little to offer any woman. Fucking his wife well was one of the few things he still had.

He knew Brienne enjoyed taking his cock inside her, but he felt something was missing. He knew he could do so much more for her in this area. Unfortunately, his expertise didn’t go beyond hurried, quiet rutting. It was really a novelty hearing his wife shout her pleasure to the sky—or at least, threaten to have the carved ceilings of their private chambers crashing on them.

“Women love stamina in a man,” Tyrion continued. “Why won’t they? But more often than not, it’s the quality of the fuck and not the quantity that matters to them.”

“The quality of the fuck?”

Tyrion looked confused. “You are aware of the Seven Points of Conquest, aren’t you?”

“Seven? Conquest? Is that a book?”

“By the Seven,” Tyrion breathed in pure shock. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Why the fuck do you think I’m here?” Jaime demanded impatiently. He poured himself a drink and downed in quickly. He coughed. No matter how fine the wine, it still burned the throat and chest when swallowed as peasants did.

“Follow me. Let me put it for you in terms you’ll understand.” Tyrion said, climbing down from his seat and heading for the door. When he realized Jaime wasn’t following him, he turned around impatiently.

“May I remind you that everyone can hear your wife when you fuck her? Despite err. . .her looks, her screams will make any man forget and want to have a turn at her.”

Jaime shot him a warning look. “Never refer to Brienne so crudely again. And while she will never turn heads, mine will always be turned to hers.”

“How about between her legs?”

“I’m not an idiot.” Jaime growled.

“But do you know what you’re doing when you’re there?”

At Jaime’s confused look, Tyrion sighed and opened the door.

 

*****  
In the library of Evenfall Hall was a long, wide table on which a map of Westeros was spread. Markers in the shapes of house sigils were placed strategically. A dragon’s head marker was on King’s Landing, a wolf on Winterfell, lion on Tarth and Lannisport and so on. Tyrion removed them all and looked at Jaime.

“You have to be honest with the details, Jaime. Tell me how you start seducing your wife, what you do when you succeed, how you sustain it and how you bring her to the finish line.”

Jaime looked dubious. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

“Then what are we here for? If you’re sure Brienne will never fuck another man because you keep her happy in bed, why are we here?”

“I just. . .” Jaime sighed loudly. “Look, I can’t explain it very well. I know she likes what I do to her. Trust me. I know the difference between being pleasured and. . .tolerated. There’s more I can do for her. _I know it._ You say women are different from men and yes, I agree. But every woman is different too.”

“And. . .?”

“But what Cersei liked is not what Brienne does, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

Jaime slumped heavily on a chair, pinching the bridge of his elegant nose. “I was able to fuck Cersei without the fear of being executed only a few times, alright? Most of the time, we had to be. . .fast. So with Brienne. . .it’s usually like that. Fast.”

He wasn’t going to breathe a single word to Tyrion that a kiss was all it took for Brienne’s pants to get soaked. Not damp. _Delightfully soaked._ He was lucky she was very responsive.

“Alright. Has she made any complaints?”

“That’s the thing with my wife. She’s so fucking honorable and very much a maiden despite having my cock in her day and night that she won’t tell me what else she wants although I can feel it. I only have to look in her eyes to see that there’s something else she wants but doesn’t know how to say it. Or say it without thinking to hurt me.”

“Have you told her you’re welcome to suggestions?”

“Of course, I have!” Jaime protested.

Tyrion held up a hand. “Calm down. I believe you.”

“If she’s not going to say anything, and me knowing there’s more I can do for her, I think the best way is to pleasure her in ways she doesn’t think is possible. But with my limited knowledge, I don’t know how else to go about it.”

“What about your positions?” Tyrion asked suddenly.

“What?”

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Does she have a preferred position? Both of you?”

Jaime looked at him then around them. “What I tell you should never leave this room.”

“You have my word.”

But he was stern. “I mean it, Tyrion. I can be humiliated. But not Brienne. I won’t tolerate it.”

Tyrion looked pained. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“Let’s just say I’ve seen how men can be cruel to my wife. Men who need a fucking mirror to see they’re more deserving of insults than Brienne. She’s as skittish and shy in the bedroom as she is confident and powerful with a sword. If she’s embarrassed in any way because word of our conversation is whispered about—”

“I swear, Jaime.” Tyrion exclaimed. “I’m not going to dishonor Brienne. Or you. Why would I be cruel to the woman who saved my brother? And me, from certain death?”

“As long as you don’t forget,” Jaime said firmly.

“I never have.” Tyrion said solemnly.

Jaime took a deep breath. He will always trust his brother.

“So. . .regarding positions. . .” Tyrion prompted haltingly.

“Right. Positions. Well, uh, I fuck her from behind. It’s one I’m most familiar with and what she expects. I prefer to have her facing me but most of the time, she won’t look at me. She’s very conscious about the scar on her face.” It made Jaime sad, for Brienne to think he won’t love her for a mark that was one of the many testaments to her courage and bravery. “The only time I’m able to take her with her eyes on me is when she’s half-asleep. It’s. . .also when. . .”

He felt himself turn red.

“When. . .?”

He cleared his throat. “I, ah, wake her up by putting my head between her legs. And kissing her. I told you, she’s most receptive on her back when still half-asleep. I’d rather she was more conscious and actually telling me to put my head there but she’s still very shy.”

It was also a kind of pleasure Jaime did not know much about. Cersei told him it was the fastest to get her to come but she never liked it. It made her feel powerless.

Brienne’s resistance was not because she likened it to weakness. She refused to believe Jaime that men really did such a thing and enjoyed it. He really did, with her. She tasted of sweet, sweet innocence and he loved having her flavor lingering in the back of his mouth all day.

“You’ve been married for. . .what? Four moons.”

“And she’s still _very shy_ ,” he repeated. “I’m telling you. She even has a fucking privacy screen in our chambers. I don’t want her wearing any clothes to bed but I always have to fight her for that blasted nightshirt. She also got it in her thick skull that sharing my bed is temporary until I told her that even if she were in another wing in the castle she would still get my cock all night and first thing in the morning. You’d think she’ll understand I intend to keep her naked in our chambers but no. My wife will understand battle strategy in the blink of an eye but fucking?”

Tyrion hid a smile at the frustration in Jaime’s voice.

“Fucking difficult taking that thing off her when she’s got the advantage of two hands and twice the strength,” he grumbled, running a hand through his golden hair. “She gets tame after a few kisses, but I don’t want her tamed. I want her to trust me. I want her to know I want her and love her so much. She gets all red when I tell her these things, like she still doesn’t believe me. What I’ve learned from my wife is she has more faith in action rather than words. Which might explain why she can’t tell me what else she wants in bed. Aside from her shyness and her consideration for my feelings, she’s not the most verbose. Not unless we’re talking about swords or battles or military strategy.”

Seven Hells was a woman who prattled about silly things like sewing and table set-ups. Jaime had limited interests and it was men like himself who shared it. Brienne was the only woman who understood the strengths of different steels and swords. She spoke of the things he could speak with any man who knew how to fight with a sword, true. But it was her voice talking about them that he most enjoyed listening to. It was the way her sapphire eyes gleamed that he loved gazing at. 

“I know how to pleasure my wife. I’m not a total dunce,” he said, staring at the more practical hook that had replaced his useless golden hand a long time ago. “But I feel like I’m only doing what she expects. I only know the usual, Tyrion. I want to know more and hope one of the things you’ll tell me is what she wants.”

Now Tyrion smiled. “The truth is, brother, telling you will be useless. I must show you. Hence,” he gestured grandly at the table. “The map.”

“What the fuck does a map have to do with my problem?”

Tyrion stood up on his chair and took the lion markers. “Think of the map of Westeros as Brienne’s body, Jaime,” he said, putting them on seemingly random spots on the map. “When you’re going to attack a place, you have a strategy right? You assess its strengths, possible points of penetration, its weaknesses. . .”

“Brienne is not weak. And I’m not going to attack her.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tyrion said with exaggerated patience. He finished arranging the markers and nodded in approval. “Alright, dear brother. Pretending that this is Brienne’s glorious body, allow me to instruct you on the Seven Points of Conquest.”

Jaime crossed his arms and looked at the map. “Go on.”

“You may be short of a hand but you still have one. Just like what our Andal ancestors did in conquering the south of Westeros beginning from the Fingers,” Tyrion began, slowly moving the lion marker down on the map, “the first weapons you must deploy in conquering your wife is _with_ your fingers.”

“I’ve used my fingers, Tyrion.”

“Believe me, you haven’t explored the many ways they can be used,” Tyrion said confidently. He glanced at Jaime’s serious and curious face. “Good. I have your attention.”


	2. First Conquest: Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A light but sure touch. To get her blood running, and then you whisper what you want her to know. Whisper in her ear, as you would a sonnet. But make it true and not a nonsense stringing of pretty words to get her to open her legs for you." 
> 
> \---Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King

He will have to believe his brother was not pulling a mean jest.

Ears?

Doubt still plagued Jaime even as the servants bustled about their private chambers. Days began early for them. First, with sleepy but heated kisses and urgent forays of hands on each other’s bodies, commencing in a passionate joining that had Brienne shuddering strongly against him. Sometimes, when still tired from their long evening fucks, he slipped a hand between her sticky thighs and pushed a finger between her folds.

Watching Brienne awaken with his finger inside her was like watching a wildflower bloom. Legs slowly parting because she was still asleep, hips gently rolling against his pumping finger. Sapphire eyes fluttering open, first in confusion at the pleasure seizing her. Her gaze would dart to him, suspicion leaving her to be replaced by uncertainty and hunger. Her throat still hoarse from her cries the previous night, she moaned her release, head rolling from side to side.

Brienne had a sensual side whose depths he was still plumbing. Every night led to a revelation and he could not remember feeling this kind of thrill with Cersei at any point during their affair. He did not doubt the pleasure he felt with his sister, nor hers. But his feelings for Brienne was unlike anything. He would get hard as the sun began to set, already anticipating seeing his wife after being away from her and her beautiful eyes for so many hours. She always arrived on the dot and it took every ounce of discipline he had to give her some respect lest he fuck her against the wall—or in the hallway outside their chambers.

Jaime would keep his eyes on the arched doorway if not for a servant consulting on him about tonight. He had ordered a hot bath. Brienne would need it after a long day of meeting with her subjects and going around Tarth to oversee the island rebuilding after the war. His wife was not a picky eater but he ordered the slaughter of the fattest pheasant to make into a roast, served with potatoes and carrots. The wine cellars were raided for the finest of spirits.

“A vintage from the Jade Sea, my lord,” the servant told him, barely controlling his excitement as he presented a bottle containing wine that gleamed like gold. “The Evenstar’s father had been saving this for her marriage.”

“Well done,” Jaime told him, standing aside so the wine could be put on the table. Wines from beyond the Jade Sea were said to be so fine that other wines tasted like vinegar.

Preparations were finished according to his instructions right before Brienne arrived. Jaime’s heart quickened upon hearing the heavy tread of her boots as they approached their chambers.

The door opened and he schooled his expression into something more formal, but warm, rather than eager. It was difficult. It seemed the sun lived right in him and was ready to rise again upon laying eyes on his wife.

As the Evenstar now, and Westeros’ first female knight, Brienne had some modicum of power to exercise certain things her way. She was still learning, and relied heavily on records kept by maesters and consultations from her husband and her people in running Tarth. But she was slowly flexing her power in ways in which she had a direct control in.

Though she now had dressmakers more than willing to design clothes that fit her well and brought out the unusual beauty of her sapphire eyes, she preferred jerkins or tunics as tops, and breeches with long, fitted boots. In Jaime’s eyes, she was better suited for tailored, mannish clothes.

She was the tallest woman he had ever seen, and also had the longest arms and legs. He admired how the deep, vivid blue leather jerkin she wore brought out the brilliance of her eyes. A high collar hid the ugly scars from her encounter with the bear but there was nothing to do about the marring of her face. Grotesque as the scar on her cheek was, he longed to caress it gently. Kiss it over and over. All her scars, if she would let him.

It pleased him that she still wore Oathkeeper at her hip, but now with a sword belt designed with an adaptation of their house sigils. The thick strip of leather was blue, and studded with quartered squares on which yellow suns were on rose and white crescents on azure. At the center was a golden lion. Fitted tan breeches showed the strength of her thighs and legs, and tall boots. Jaime thought she looked most arresting. He watched her push her pale, rough hair away from her freckled face, tucking the longish, uneven locks behind her ears.

_Ears?_

He couldn’t imagine how these two, curved bits of flesh could drive Brienne mad with desire, as Tyrion promised. Touched right, his little brother swore, and even a woman as big and strong as Brienne would be putty in Jaime’s hands. But he did not want his wife like this. He wanted her to find the ultimate, sole pleasure in bed with him. She will never get there if he kept fucking her in ways that just about kept her satisfied.

“Ser,” she greeted them, coming to a sudden stop by the arched doorway leading to the inner, more private chambers. His eyes softened at the lovely pink blush spreading across her face and the quick way her eyes fluttered to her boots before looking at him.

The war had aged and marked everyone in ways that would haunt them until their death. Jaime smiled at the hope in her eyes, his gaze lingering on the scar on her cheek before resting on her thick, half-parted lips.

“My lady wife,” he acknowledged.

Tyrion advised that stamina would never fail to impress a woman but a man who took his time in her pleasure will never be forgotten. It had become a routine for Jaime to take Brienne to bed before supper, fucking her from behind and coming hard from her sharp cries. His cock was twitching in anticipation of its return to her cunt but he saw the wisdom in Tyrion’s words.

Brienne was his wife. _His wife._ They could do whatever they wished, whenever they desired, in however way they needed. No more stolen kisses behind closed doors. No hurried ruttings and hands clamped over mouths to muffle screams.

He could fuck Brienne in the Great Hall and no one would take their heads.

It caused him to stagger a bit, the idea of taking his wife in a public venue. But why not? As shy as she was, she never refused him. She craved his kisses and opened her legs with desire rather than surrender. _He wanted her all the time._ Cersei had been an obsession. Brienne was the air he breathed.

He went to her, watching her long fingers loosening the buckles of her belt while she stared at him. Her blushed deepened and the tip of a pink tongue darted to swipe across the chapped surface of her lower lip. He thought she looked so fucking innocent and wicked at the same time.

“I may be short of a hand, but more than pleased to lend assistance, wench,” he offered, approaching her.

She smiled a little and continued fumbling. “I am aware, ser. But such a menial task my husband need not bother with, I believe.”

“Come now,” he pressed, gently sweeping her hands away. He smirked, tucking his hook between her top and the belt and tugged her to his chest. A loud, snorting sound mixed with a laugh tumbled out of her as she slammed against him, making him stagger a bit. Her eyes widened and strong arms quickly closed around his waist to steady him. He grinned, releasing her from the hook to wrap an arm around her waist. His hand stroked the firm length of her arm under the sleeve, drawing her closer until her tits pressed against him. She sighed softly. He swore she seemed to melt against him.

 _“Jaime.””_ Sapphire eyes blinked at him rapidly.

 _“Brienne,”_ he whispered. She turned to give him her mouth, but he shook his head. Regret washed over him as the mirth fled her tender gazed. Quickly, her cupped her by the chin and pressed a hard kiss on her sunken cheek, where a round, rough scar had replaced the supple skin.

She gasped and stilled against him.

Her heart seemed to have stopped beating too.

He buried his fingers in her hair and brushed butterfly kisses up and around the scar that made her uglier to many but more dear to him than could be imagined. He felt her shake, felt the sudden lurch in her heart that lead to a heartbeat akin to the frenzied gallop of horses. His lips didn’t leave the raised scratches and bumps. If he could make her forget the vicious teeth that ripped away a chunk of her flesh, he would. There was nothing he could change about what happened. But with a kiss, and another, and another, he hoped she would see the scar as one of the many things he loved about her.

The airy kisses he first pressed became deep, desperate. As she panted, he remembered to touch the line at the back of her ear, where it connected the pink shell to her head.

_“A light but sure touch,” Tyrion had instructed, running the lion marker on the map as it to trace the arc of an ear. “To get her blood running, and then you whisper what you want her to know. Whisper in her ear, as you would a sonnet. But make it true and not a nonsense stringing of pretty words to get her to open her legs for you.”_

Jaime ran his finger on the spot. Brienne made a hiccupping sound before capturing his shoulders in a crushing grip that made him grunt. “J-Jaime?” She squeaked.

He kept kissing her, fingertip stroking up and down that sensitive line. It must be because her breathing was quickening and her hold tightening. She whined. “J-Jaime, _what_ —”

 “Do you know,” he whispered, leaving her scar suddenly to press his mouth on her ear, “how much I admire you, Brienne?”

He felt rather than saw her shake her head sharply. He smirked and nuzzled her ear some more. He was rewarded with her chest arching against him. The lion’s head pommel of Oathkeeper was digging in his thigh but when her body was pressed so—he cared for little else. Just Brienne. He was sure she can feel the bulge in his pants.

“I admire you, “ he repeated, licking the tip of her ear. She jumped. She really was a skittish thing, like a newborn horse unused to the world. He purred against the heated, pinkening flesh of her cheek, the side of her neck, as Tyrion suggested he should do. Very favorable results were yielded right away.

She slumped against him, clutching at his shoulders.

He felt the brush of her lips close to his ear. Gods.

_“Jaime.”_

“You are the strongest and bravest I know,” he continued, still whispering in her ear. Goosebumps formed along the delicate line of her neck and shoulder as he spoke. He stroked the hairs at the back of her head. They were tangled and felt as stiff as straw yet he liked it. “It is only you that sees good in me. How can you not? Such astonishing, beautiful eyes. You see beauty in the ugliest and most monstrous of things, don’t you?”

“You are not ugly,” she protested, pulling away from him. He was glad she didn’t leave his arms completely. “Jaime. You are _not_ a monster. You’re a man of honor. You’ve always been one.”

He cradled her damaged cheek in his palm. She stared at him owlishly.

“Neither are you, Brienne.”

Her face, vividly flushed from his kisses and whispered, flared to a deeper shade of red before she deprived him of her eyes. He watched her drop them to her boots. He removed his hand from her face.

“You made me believe in the good again,” he said with a catch in his voice. His heart was racing. “You saw a part of me that I thought had long died. I can not bear to see disappointment in your eyes, Brienne. I will work for all my days to be at least half deserving of you. Look at me.”

She bit her lip and raised her eyes at him.

“All that you are,” he said, once again touching her scarred face. “All that you’ve become—I love you. I see this,” and he kissed her there again, taking her in his arms. “And I think of your heart. Your beautiful, giving heart, Brienne. I dreamed myself a knight since a young boy. Perhaps it’s my own knight I have been dreaming about. You. It’s always been you, wench.”

She was really shaking, as if wracked by the most unforgiving of chills. He chuckled and kissed her fully on the mouth. He thought she laughed too, and then she hugged him.

“Jaime, I—thank you,” she murmured against his lips between kisses. “They are words I never expected to be told of me.”

“Then I’ll be sure to write them down and remind you,” he replied. “Can’t do sonnets, though But I’ll whisper them in your ear.”

She giggled. “I much prefer your bluntness.”

Her girlish sounds of amusement were new. Jaime kissed her hard again, sure to bruise him, before setting himself away from her. Her hair was tousled from his hands. In her eyes was a brightness he had never seen before. Her mouth. Gods. Kisses had made it swell to twice its size. She was not beautiful but something about her looked sweet and all the more innocent even after their kiss.

He undid her sword belt and carefully put it on the velvet bench at the foot of their bed. Brienne started loosening the laces of her jerkin. She looked past his shoulder and smiled.

“A bath?”

“Yes,” he confirmed, glancing at it before facing her. “Not as hot as it was but I believe it’s still quite warm. You’ve had a long day and I thought to request one for you.”

“Thank you.” He could tell she was moved by this thoughtful gesture. “But will you share it with me?”

He smiled and couldn’t resist kissing her swollen mouth again. “Since you ask so nicely.”

She blushed and continued with the laces of her jerkin. He put a hand to stop further movements.

“I can’t work as fast as you, my lady wife, but would you let me have the pleasure of undressing you? It’s the best part of the day.” His emerald eyes twinkled. “I think about your sweet, blushing tits, your hard fat nipples—”

“Jaime!” She exclaimed, clearly shocked by his revelation. But he was determined, and put a hand behind her hips to press her against his erection. Her eyeballs nearly jumped out of their sockets. “You’re-you’re—” She could only stare at his cock straining under his breeches and swallow audibly.

“I am,” he said, and just to see if it will result in another wave of blushes, rubbed himself against her. She gasped and looked around wildly. “Brienne,” he chided her, working on the laces. “You act as if I don’t fuck you as soon as the setting sun returns you to me.”

“I still have trouble believing it,” she admitted, sounding embarrassed.

“Start believing it, wench.” Finishing with her jerkin, his hand and hook pushed them open. There. Freckles on her creamy skin, the long scars left by a bear’s claws a long time ago by her neck and toward her chest. He kissed them too as he pushed the garment off her. She sighed, arching toward his lips and inadvertently offering a plump pink nipple.

He will never deny this gift. Eagerly, he wrapped his lips around it sucked and hungrily. Brienne shrieked and gripped him by the head. She pulled at his hair but despite her strength, was unable to remove him from her tits. He mouthed the gentle mounds, tasted her other nipple before straightening up.

Brienne quickly covered her tits with her hands. It was going to be a long night.

But Jaime was ready. Tonight, he definitely wasn’t going to be the usual slow learner.

He nodded at her breeches. “Allow me to work on these too, my wife. I dream about your sweet, wet cunt all day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for reading. 
> 
> If you were expecting smut, I'm sorry if this chapter is a little disappointing. The ears are an erogenous zone, not making it up! Given that there are things Jaime needs to tell Brienne, I thought he would use this opportunity to tell her just how wonderful she is. Kissing her a lot helped too, I'd bet! 
> 
> But I so promise there will be smut! After all, Brienne is already half-naked at the end of the chapter!


	3. Second Conquest: Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The neck holds upright the head of the best of women. She knows when to yield but never bends. When she yields in a storm, it is not in defeat but to give.”  
> Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A scene here was inspired from one of the chats catherineflowers and I had regarding. . .well, I don't want to ruin it. Better you find out when we whip it out! Get the red carpet out and ready!
> 
> *****  
> For those a tad sensitive on tense-switching, look out! Look away. Run!

Divested of the rest of her clothes, Jaime looked up at Brienne from his kneeling position. Her pale, flushed thighs were decorated with purple and graying bruises, collected from their sparring and sensual games in bed. He looked away from her to watch the ascent of his hand on her muscled flesh, caressing the freckled skin. The rough curls of her cunt tickled his cheek, the cluster brushing him as she filled the air with her stuttered breathing.

He smiled upon glimpsing the familiar sheen of her cunt’s moisture on her inner thighs. He could smell her already. His cock was in such pain he could hardly see straight. It needed to be inside her, fucking her through the night.

Brienne. She was his light in the darkest days of the war. She was the reason for him to fight hard and cling to life. He would shout for her after every battle, terrified that she would never respond. She yelled for him too. As soon as they found each other, they ran back to his tent, or hers.

He didn’t fuck her, steadfast in his refusal to burden her with a child when neither knew if they would make it out alive. But Brienne, every inch and part of her, was goodness. He was a man so desperate for this truth. No matter how bloody they got, no matter their injuries, he would bury his head between her powerful thighs and partake of the warm sweetness flowing from her cunt. She tasted of summer, of spring. She tasted of hope.

When he took her at last, towards the last days of the war, he felt truly alive for the first time in his life.

A tremor seized him but it passed quickly. Brienne was overwhelming in the most beautiful of ways. Big. Tall. Strong. Passionate. Sweet. Brave. His hand slipped between her thighs.

 _“Jaime.”_  Her hands threatened to crush his shoulders again.

He chuckled and nudged the folds open with his fingers. Seven hells. She was wet.

“Did my kisses do this?” He asked conversationally although his mouth was watering. He could almost taste her. “Or is it my words, my lady wife?”

“It’s _you_ ,” she half-moaned.

Wonderful how responsive she was, he thought. A gift, really. A few kisses and her cunt got slick.

Her clit was a fat, pink-red ruby, begging to be sucked. It wasn’t the time yet but he couldn’t pass up a taste. Breathing quickly from his own excitement, he grabbed Brienne’s ass and pushed his tongue past her slit, licking at her nub loudly. She squealed, her thick thighs trembling against him.

He gave her clit a sharp, hungry pull with his mouth and got to his feet, holding her just as she swayed. Half-closed sapphire eyes met his bright gaze and he cupped her by the scarred cheek to share the taste of her cunt. She kissed him back softly, following the gentle slant of his mouth on her, shyly thrusting her tongue at him. He hummed in pleasure and licked her back.

When he stepped away, her hands came around her tits again. He saw the moment she remembered she was naked below the waist too. Her mouth opened and she lowered her hand to her cunt while keeping an arm on her tits. She looked confused, vulnerable before finally meeting his gaze.

In armor, she was the bravest. When a life was threatened, she was the first to spring to its defense. Because she dreamed of becoming a knight, she took to heart the code of serving others. She hardly put herself first.

Only in bed, he realized. Only when soft and lost in his kisses when she seemed to put herself first, when she initiated a kiss. When she begged for things she was still too shy to say with his name.

A lifetime of abuse had stripped her of whatever confidence she had in herself sans a sword and out of an armor. Except for when he fainted in the baths of Harrenhal. Before losing consciousness, he discovered the warmth and strength of her arms, heard the fear in his voice when she cried out for his name. He had no memory of her pulling him out of the water. When he came to, he saw her naked and standing, surrounded by Qyburn and other men. She had forgotten her nakedness to help him.

Brienne cleared her throat, blushing at the heat of his gaze. “Uh, the bath will get cold. Shall we—would you like me to—to—” she gave him a helpless look.

“What do you believe would I like?” He teased her.

“Your clothes. Would you. . .I can help, if you wish, ser.”

If she touched him any more he was going to come all over her, he was sure. “Your offer pleases me and I’ll be sure to take you up on it, wench. But for now, I shall take care of it.” He offered his hand. “You’re right. The bath will get cold.”

She took his hand and he helped her into the tub. It was wider and deeper than most tubs. A servant had whispered that Lord Selwyn had been the one to commission for it, given his height and build. Jaime himself was a tall man, but his wife was taller, broader. The big tub looked deep enough to swim in for him but with Brienne, worked just right.

The water sloshed as she put a leg in, then the next. Her smile was hesitant but grateful. “It’s still so very warm,” she marveled, lowering herself in it. “Please hurry.”

How sweet she sounded, he thought, feeling his cock thrust in his breeches.  

Cersei, when she said it, did so in the throes of passion, her voice tight but still thick with command. “Hurry,” she would urge him, small nails scratching at his back, slim legs flung wide. “Hurry, hurry. Jaime Jaime Jaime.” The danger of discovery was a thrill. It drew him to release, more than the clutch of her cunt. He would catch his breath resting against her lavender-scented neck but she was quick to push him away. Fixing her hair, wiping his semen with her skirts as she hissed in annoyance. She left without looking back.

As Brienne hugged her knees in the bath, watching him, Jaime reached for the buckles and laces of his clothes with one hand. He wondered if Cersei had even watched him strip, or stared at him with anything close to the growing want that shone so clearly from Brienne’s eyes. He remembered his sister looking away from his stump, unable to stand the scarred end that once held his hand.

How many times had Brienne kissed his scars?

_It’s reached numbers beyond my knowledge._

She followed his motions as he loosened the laces that attached his hook to his arm. He put it next to Oathkeeper then shrugged off his jerkin, his tunic.

War had hardened his body even more, and left scars in its wake. A long, puckered line on his stomach from the sword the Night King, before Jon Snow came to his rescues and cut off the monster’s head was the most obvious, after his stump. There smaller but unmistakable marks on his golden skin, all now familiar with Brienne’s lips.

He toed off his boots. Now practiced with his lone hand, it was quick in undoing the laces of his breeches. His cock slipped through the loosening seam of the leather, pointing right at Brienne. He smiled as red exploded all over her skin, that for a moment she seemed burned by the sun.

“Uh, ser,” she stammered, turning in the tub and bringing water spilling on the floor again. She rested her elbows on the edge, her blue eyes wide. “Would—would—I mean, if I may offer my assistance again?”

“But I am without a stitch on now, wife,” Jaime drawled, heading toward her. It was such a joy to see her confused but determined to own the desire overtaking her. Cersei wore hers so coolly. It was refreshing and intriguing in so many ways, to see Brienne discovering and mulling over it so seriously. “I’m curious about the assistance you believe I need?”

Brienne looked up at him. “I mean. . .your cock, ser.”

Fuck. Must she sound so earnest and sexy at the same time? _How the fuck does she do that?_

His cock answered her by thrusting harder, and more determinedly, in her direction. She smiled and looked away. Jaime watched the tensed line of her neck emphasizing the long, raised scars from the claws of a bear.

He understood her embarrassment at being scarred so. Hers were the worst he had seen but he was far from repulsed. Every scar on her face and body was a part of their story.

The slashes the bear had left he never saw happened. His return to Harrenhal, after dreaming of her while resting his weary head, awakened a courage that he thought to be long dead. It was nothing like the anger that prompted him to attack Ned Stark in King’s Landing. It was a mix of dread, knowing that a life may be lost. But if he did not act, a life would most surely be. Thus, he had jumped, forgetting his fever and weakness. All he knew was he had to save Brienne.

He reached out to trace the long lines that were paler than the rest of her. She froze despite the warmth of the bath and he wondered if he had crossed the line. He hoped she believed him about what he said about the scar on her cheek. They rang true even for these ugly, jagged lines that somehow, made her more perfect.

_“The neck holds upright the head of the best of women. She knows when to yield but never bends. When she yields in a storm, it is not in defeat but to give.” Tyrion told him earlier as he set the lion marker on the map indicating the chokepoint that was The Neck. “Whether in a map or in a woman, Jaime, whether you wish to take the north or Brienne, the neck is a strategic key point. A touch and a sonnet in her ear would make her listen to you but to make her want you, you must take care of the neck too.”_

She let him touch her before stilling his hand with a firm grip and looking at him. “Will you let me take care of you, Jaime?” She asked huskily.

He would like to keep touching her, kiss her neck, those scars, and pour more sweet words in her ears. Despite her soft request, there was something urgent about her tone too. He didn’t trust on his control—with Cersei, because their times were often stolen, he’d had to find other ways to deal with his arousal in her absence.

With Brienne, had had very little control. It could be embarrassing but he was not going to change anything about it.

He wanted to enjoy the warm bath with her without worry about embarrassing himself, however.

He nodded, brushing her hair back from her warm, sweating forehead. She sent him a look of gratitude then took his cock. It was perfectly aligned to her mouth.

He kept her hair back from her face as she opened her mouth and took him inside. The first slide of his cock on her tongue pulled a long, rough groan from him. For too long they could only satisfy each other orally but neither had felt shortchanged. They knew there was more but there was war. First, they must survive.

She moaned, bringing a new sensation around his hard flesh that had him gripping her hair harder, almost painfully. But she was used to pain and did not try making him loosen his hand.

Brienne could use more lessons, could be finer in taking him in her throat but she was always so giving, so enthusiastic. Cersei seemed to have always known what to do. Knew how to touch him, knew how to lick, knew at the exact moment when she should mouth him.

There was no rhythm to the slides of Brienne’s long, warm tongue up and down, around his shaft, the tip lingering on the slit. He loved the randomness of her kisses, of her hard, eager sucks that pulled his cock deep in her throat. Fuck. She was tight down there too. He pulled at her hair to angle her head up, to fuck her deeper.

As he had taught her, she released his cock to catch her breath but all too soon was burying her face in the golden hairs again, nuzzling them before covering his balls with hot, eager kisses. She sucked them too, making him cry out. He thought he felt her smile but her mouth was around his cock again, drawing him deep. Water spilled from the tub and onto the floor, his feet. One of her hands drifted to his hip before squeezing the tight globes of his ass.

He stiffened and wondered if he should stop Brienne. A memory was returning to him. One he thought was forgotten.

Cersei was delirious with power after the torture of Ellaria Sand and one of her daughters. She was beautiful and savage, cool and queenly even as she knelt at his feet and sucked his cock. Showing she overheard the conversation he had with Euron Greyjoy, she sank a finger in his ass. He was too shocked to warn her and came. Cersei never cared for his taste, or Robert’s. But for that night, he had a free pass.

The rough, pale hairs in his hand told him it was Brienne he held and not Cersei. He was grateful. He would kiss all of the Seven in the sept of Evenfall Hall come morning. He looked in Brienne’s eyes, glad that she was watching him. He didn’t stop her from parting the cheeks of his ass to slide a finger between them. This was all her, blending her instinct and his lessons.

Her finger was calloused and seemed a little unsure, suddenly hesitating. Loving her so much, wanting her so greatly, he released her hair to guide her hand inside. _Gods._ He closed his eyes, feeling his ascent to Seven Heavens at the twin pleasures of her mouth warming his cock and her finger in his ass. His breathing sped up, sharp plumes of air taken deep in his lungs and expelled loudly. Brienne tightened her mouth around him. She removed her other hand from his cock to caress the side of his firm thigh.

 _“Brienne.”_ His eyes opened to look at her.

She suddenly released him and looked up at him.

“I love you, Jaime.”

Before he could shout how much he loved her, she took him in her mouth again.

He seized her head, then, and used his stump to keep her still as he fucked her throat. She let him, moaning, closing her eyes, opening them. She gazed at him with a gentle fire in her sapphire orbs as he used her, cock plunging in and out of her throat with no mercy.

He shouted her name just before spilling in her throat. She made a choking sound but began to move, her hands gripping his hips. She aided the rest of his release with her lips, cheeks hollowing from her hungry sucking. He pumped into her face, wishing her to wring him dry and leave him limp. Good soldier that Brienne was, she did not need words to see follow his command.

He let out a shaking breath as he poured the last jet of his semen in her mouth. She moaned, in both protest and pleasure before letting go with a loud pop. Seven hells, but she was breathtaking. Mussed hair and sleepy sapphire eyes, mouth swollen from getting fucked by his cock.

Forget about teaching Brienne more lessons. Jaime didn’t want a skilled whore to swallow him cleanly. He wanted the mess of it. _All_ of it. As seen in Brienne—wet tracks of his semen sliding from her corners of her lips, down her chin, her throat. He had to steady himself by slamming his hands on the edge of the tub.

She was so fucking beautiful. 

Without warning, he leaped in the water, startling Brienne into a shout.  Water splashed all around them. He laughed and took her in his arms. Immediately, she started resisting.

“Jaime. Jaime, wait,”she muttered, trying to remove herself. It hurt that she was trying to turn away so he took her by the face.

“I will look in your eyes when I fuck you,” he told her firmly. “I admire the muscles in your shoulders and back, wench, but I like to see your face when you take my cock.”

She blinked at him in disbelief. “But—”

“Did you forget already what I just told you?”He kissed the scar on her cheek and then sent his lips down to her throat, slick with semen and covered with those scars. “All that you are,” he repeated, licking himself from her. “All that you’ve become—“he sucked on one scar that ran long on her neck—“I love you.”

He pushed her toward the other end of the tub, the better to kiss her and trap her, lest she was still thinking to turn and give him another view of her back. He pressed her firmly, covering her scarred neck with kisses, whispering against the pulse beating fast under his lips how he loved her. He breathed in the sweat and sun from her neck, feeling immediately intoxicated.

Her throat was tight from tension, from swallowing, so he returned his mouth on her.

For a few moments, her mouth was just open under him and he wondered if she was angry. For he was forcing her out of her comfort zone. But no more. When he had his wife, he would see her face, look in her eyes.  

Then she kissed him back.

Put her arms around him.

He groaned her name and coaxed her mouth to open wider. She was warmer from his semen. He took her face again and deepened their kiss, sucking and licking himself from her tongue. She moaned, matching the desperation of his kisses.

He left her mouth, so she may catch her breath. She was soft now, no longer tensed as he licked his semen off her jaw, down her throat. Her moans continued, getting louder as he tongued the gleaming tracks from her scars. Once she was licked clean, he brushed kisses on every branch of the scar.

“I regret the pain you felt from these,” he said, pulling away to rest his forehead on hers. He was panting. Her breathing was unsteady too, but she still held him. He touched the scars, treasuring their raised surface. “But they brought you to me, Brienne. These scars,” he whispered, touching them gently before dropping another kiss. He looked in the soft blue of her eyes. “Brienne, I did not know then, but I have loved you from the moment I saw you fight the bear.”

She looked shocked. “You—you did? As far back as that?”

He sighed and kissed her on the lips. “I did not realize. Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Jaime,” she said, hugging him. He let himself rest fully on her. She was strong. “It’s not a transgression to love.”

“We could have been together longer,” he couldn’t help but say.

“What matters is we are, in spite of everything against us before,” she said, kissing him gently. He sighed and kissed her on the neck again. The scent of his cum lingered here. She moaned.

“Do you like it, wench?” He asked, rubbing his lips lazily on her scars again. He pinched one of her plump nipples none too gently.

Clearly overwhelmed, she nodded.

“Will you tell me what else you like?”

Her eyes were big and a blush suddenly covered her face. Curious, he asked, “What is it?”

“I—I don’t know. Truly, Jaime. I desire you but. . .” She blushed even more. “I can’t tell madness from necessity.”

“Madness from necessity,” he murmured, resuming his kisses on her neck. “Must you, my lady wife?”

“I—I know you must fuck me. With your cock,” she said, and he felt her entire body warm from embarrassment. Now he hugged her. “But—But—”

“Yes, wench?”

She looked helpless. “If—If I ask you to kiss me, to just kiss me on the neck—I don’t know if it’s madness or necessity.”

He had to smile. “There is no need to delineate so cleanly between them. What matters is if you want it. If you like it.”

She frowned. “That’s all?”

“That’s all,” he assured her. “If you want my tongue in your cunt through the night, wench, then so it shall be. As long as you want it.”

“But—but it’s not fucking.”

He kissed her. How innocent she was. “Fucking you with my cock is just one way, wench. When you gave me your mouth earlier. . .”

“Uh. . .yes?”

“That’s fucking too. I was fucking your mouth.”

She looked surprised although her cheeks were once again a deep pink. “I did not know. What are the other ways you’ve fucked me?”

“With my fingers, wench. Remember? Like how I will sometimes wake you and put my fingers in your cunt?”

“That’s fucking,” she whispered, understanding now.

“Indeed.”

She stared at the water then at him. Face flaring again, she stuttered, “I—I—I like it. All the ways you’ve fucked me.”

“I’m glad.”

“What about. . .when. . .” she bit her lip.

“Yes, my wench?”

“I swear I meant nothing by it but when. . .my finger. Earlier. When you were. . .fucking my mouth too. . .?” It was adorable how she couldn’t form a coherent sentence, her struggle to understand what else had been happening between them clear. But he understood.

“Yes, Brienne. You fucked me there too. And I liked it. Much more than I thought I would.” He thought to assure her. He really did enjoy it.

She looked relieved and he smiled at her again. He played with a damp lock of he hair.

“Would you like me to show you other things you might like?”

Her eyes close to eating up half her face, she nodded.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, everyone!


	4. Third and Fourth Points of Conquest: Tits and Nipples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The comelier the woman, the fuller her tits. But size does not necessarily yield the best of everything, dear brother. We only have to look at the North. Larger than the rest of Westeros but a wasteland of ice and snow. Now, small tits—they do not really merit the appreciation they deserve. A pity too. More sensitive. The gentlest caress and she yields. Like the Riverlands--it is not the biggest in the continent. Not the richest. But one raindrop will feed a starving city.”  
> Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I combined two parts because, well, there's really no separating them, is there? :-)
> 
> I have ANOTHER gift from catherineflowers!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14949291
> 
> It's her first JC fanfic. I don't ship JC but catherineflowers is one gifted writer and the insight into the relationship is a must-read. So, please check it out!

Brienne stared at Jaime incredulously. “B-But I’m heavy. Jaime, I’ll crush you.”

“Do I have to remind you that there are no men like me?”

“Yes. Yes, but—” she tried to protest but he pressed a fingertip to her puffy lips.

“That means I will survive being under you, dear wife. Come now,” he thought to tease her, smiling gently. “You’ve had me under you before.”

“But not with me just sitting on you,” she said, turning a lovely shade of crimson as he circled her lips with his finger. “I mean—I mean—when—when we’re fucking. I’m move up and down so I’m not on you. . .all the time.”

“You will not crush me.” He promised, sitting away a little from her. He stared appreciatively at the water lapping around her tits. Covered in her blush and freckles, they looked very kissable. The pink, pointed peaks of her nipples begged for his lips too. He swallowed, remembering their texture.

She still looked doubtful, so he decided to take matters in his one hand and stump. He scooped her up a little, the water making her heavy body buoyant. She gasped in his ear as he set her on his lap, murmuring that she must straddle him. She obeyed, and the blush mantling her cheeks deepened. His cock, growing hard since joining her in the tub, pulsed against her flat belly. Her wet cunt hairs teased his thighs.

Keeping his arm around her, he waded them towards the other end of the tub. Her breath fanned his cheek and he liked how her arms automatically wrapped around him again. Upon reaching the end of the tub, he rested his shoulders against it, turning to look at her. She squirmed, moving to lean away a little until he shook his head. She was blushing, not out of embarrassment but he knew it was because she had no idea what to do. Her awkwardness was endearing, and he was only too happy to coax her into further practice.

Kissing relaxed her, so he claimed her mouth quickly, roughly. Usually he started gently, easing her into it. Not this time. He was desperate to for the press and part of her thick lips against him. She gave him both, and tongue. Plunging into his mouth for a wet spar that had him grunting and grabbing at her hair.

She still tasted of him, he discovered, pleased. Perhaps they could make a game of their morning sparring. The first to yield must service with his or her mouth. He intended to win. But would there be a clear winner or loser? For it was as much as a reward to tongue her cunt as to fuck her mouth.

Her hand flattened on his chest and he laced his fingers through it, raising it until he could turn to kiss her rough, calloused palm. He felt the liquid heat of her gaze as he kissed down to her wrists, toward the sensitive hollow on the inside of her elbow before taking her mouth again. She sighed, and the water slid her body towards him. She stiffened a little as her nipples brushed against his own and dragged across the wet hairs on his chest. He kept kissing her until she melted against him.

She surprised him by suddenly pulling away, but just slightly. Jaime grinned as her lips warmed his neck, brushing shyly, the tip of a tongue thrusting on damp skin. She was kissing him as he had done to her, rubbing her lips up and down, nipping him gently, playfully. His cock was getting hard again. He didn’t mind. He turned his head, begging her to cover the other side of his neck with her sweet kisses. Big hands cradled his face as she obeyed him, teeth tugging at the tip of his hear.

 _“Brienne,”_ he sighed happily. He was still smiling when she looked at him, eyes bright and searching his face for approval.

He arched his neck again. “More.”

Her smile was sunburst and pure joy. He loved her scowls but also her smiles. Big, crooked teeth, the hesitant stretch of lips. He chuckled as her sudden movement pinned him on the tub and quick, hot kisses flew around his neck and cheeks. He laughed, turning his head, teasing that she missed a spot. She cupped his face again and kissed him boldly. Open-mouthed, tongue out, followed by a sweet, deep moan. He touched her ass and waist under the water, pressing her harder on him. He ran his stump up and down the side of her tit, her waist, and she shuddered as expected.

“Jaime,” she panted between tongue brushes. _“Jaime.”_

He pulled at her lower lips between his teeth as his fingers tugged sharply at her nipple She yelped, mouth falling open in shock. He quickly swallowed it with a kiss, softening her sounds of surprise into muffles. Her hips thrust. Water spilled. His cock thrust between them as the sudden slickness of her slit rubbed against it.

She whimpered. He continued pinching and tugging at her nipple until she stopped him. Confused blue eyes stared at him. “W-What are you doing?”

 _Damn._ “Did I hurt you?”

Tyrion suggested that aside from mouth, fingers could also pleasure Brienne’s nipples too. Jaime was more sure than ever no word about this conversation must reach his wife’s ears. It was not for a lady’s ears, although she was far from the traditional, easily scandalized type. He lived for her blushes but not when she was embarrassed.

_“The comelier the woman, the fuller her tits. But size does not necessarily yield the best of everything, dear brother. We only have to look at the North. Larger than the rest of Westeros but a wasteland of ice and snow. Now, small tits—they do not really merit the appreciation they deserve. A pity too. More sensitive. The gentlest caress and she yields. The Riverlands,” Tyrion said, putting the lion marker on the map. “Not the biggest in the continent. Not the richest. But one raindrop will feed a starving city. ”_

“Um. . .I don’t know,” Brienne said, glancing at her tits. One nipple was still pink and the other red. “I’m not..I’m not sure.”

“Would you like me to stop?”

She looked at him and shook her head slowly. “I don’t know.”

Jaime stared at her tits. Brienne was all muscle but had been quite scrawny due to the war. Now with regular access to food, she had filled out.

Her tits were still small but there was clear curve suggesting them now, rather than the bumps of flesh he first saw in Harrenhal. Sometimes, he thought to ask her to bind them because they jiggled even when she walked slowly. It would mean one more layer to remove before he could kiss her. And he liked that his wife did not wear as many underthings as most women. Not even smallclothes—she said they were too hot for Tarth.

She moved, her tits floating up slightly. Her nipples have always been puffy and large. If he had two hands, he would pinch those tips at the same time. Tyrion advised that the best way to learn the balance between rough and gentle was to actually see for himself. The wetness of Brienne’s cunt on Jaime’s thigh told she had liked it.

He shifted his gaze to her face.

“I know how to soothe you,” he told her. “But will you trust me with play, wench? We won’t do it again if you don’t like it.”

“Play, Jaime?” She asked.

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

He kissed her on the lips, for reassurance, then her scar, deeply, tenderly, for he loved her so much. His tongue licked every branch of the scars on her neck because he desired her above all. His arms circled her back and he nudged at her. She was so still. She made a sound like a laugh and curved against him. He took her lips again, because there was just no resisting them, before lowering his head to her tits.

“ _Gods,_ ” she gasped as he took a nipple in his mouth. . He knew she loved this. He sucked and licked the soft nub left swollen by his fingers, hoping to banish the burn of his touch but also that she would find pleasure. Brienne flung her arms to the sides to clasp the rim of the tub, pushing the nipple deeper in his mouth. He suckled with more force, such that she cried out and rubbed against his thigh.

She was wet. Sticky. His cock was insisting to return to its home. Her cunt.

He turned to take her other nipple, tugging it deep and quick between his teeth. She was moaning, whining, groaning his name, clutching at his head, pulling at his hair. _Her tits._ He marveled at the small perfection of them. They will never be breasts but tits. As he devoured her nipple, he suddenly imagined her tits full and heavy with milk. He gasped and suckled harder.

He returned to her first nipple, fingers now taking over the other to pinch and pull the one just vacated. Brienne grunted, clinging to him now. They were slipping lower into the water, so he had to press his feet hard on the slippery surface to keep their heads and shoulders above it. She returned her hands to rim of the tub, thrusting her body against him. His cock prodded at the parted slit of her cunt.

He refused to release the fat, firm berry that was her nipple from his mouth, loving how it puckered and bloomed.

His right arm was beginning to tire, as it was the only thing that kept them up, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop pinching her nipple. Not when her passionate cries rang throughout their chambers and could be heard throughout Evenfall Hall. He wanted that, especially the latter. The people should know their Evenstar was desired and loved by her husband. That he fucked her morning and night.

“Jaime.” She was thrashing wildly against him. His cock rubbed alongside the seam of her cunt, making her whine. “I’m—I don’t— _ooohh._ ”

He smirked at her shriek, her body suddenly stiffening against him. He breathed deep as he felt her shudder and come, then resumed sucking on her nipple. As her body softened, he gently guided her down on the tub. Smug, he pulled away and was rewarded by the stunned expression on her red face.

“I—I—it happened, Jaime.”

“What, my dear wife?”

She shook her head. “What happens when. . .when you’re fucking me. But you were not fucking me.”

He smiled and touched her scarred cheek. “But did you like it?”

She nodded vigorously. “Is it. . .it’s normal?”

“Perfectly,” he assured her.

 

******  


The water was beginning to cool, kept only slightly warm from their bodies. Jaime continued to hold Brienne against him, kissing her on the throat, the lips, as he rubbed the sponge on her tits. She was straddling his lap again.

Orgasm made Brienne sleepy and soft. The water did not help but Jaime took advantage of her state by keeping her in his arms and continuing their play. He would bite her gently, rake his teeth up and down her neck, lick her cheek. She sighed as he pinched her nipples, once again feeling her cunt moisten.

“Do you think they’re too small?” She suddenly asked. She stared at him curiously.

“Your nipples?” He asked, leaning to take a very gentle bite of it. She gasped. He licked her and straightened up. He resumed plucking it. “They’re the biggest I’ve seen. They call for my mouth, did you know?”

She flushed. “I meant. . .my tits.”

“They are small,” he admitted, lowering his head to cover the gentle mounds with kisses. She smelled of soap and water, simple scents that was not helping his situation under the water. He felt the beat of her under her left breast and kissed it reverently. Mouthed her nipple for a hard, deep suckle before releasing it suddenly, red and swollen puckering in the cooling night and the water around them. He looked at her, resting his arms on the tub. “Do you imagine I’ll have a problem with their size?”

She shrugged but continued to look worried. “I’m not like other women, Jaime.”

“Do you think I want my wife to be like other women? What makes you think I’d rather have you wield a needle than a sword?”

“I want to please you.”

He knew. Brienne was a warrior and in command of the battlefield. But outside of it, she was vulnerable and unsure, aiming to only please.

“These please me,” he whispered, touching her scars from cheek to neck. “I regret your pain but no man can boast of his wife’s courage like me. One look at them and they’ll know. I’ve always known. I like kissing them. _They’re mine to kiss_.”

Her eyes softened and shimmered and he wondered why she would cry. He kissed her quickly on the mouth, gathering her in his arms. He palmed one of her tits before tugging at the nipple again. She squeaked. She will be sore tomorrow. The linen will scratch at her nipples and they will be hard all day. He wondered if he can persuade her away from her duties as the Evenstar and just be his wife, naked in bed. At least her nipples will get more sore from his kisses rather than fabric.

He felt himself weaken at the volcanic surge of lust that hit him. A whole day in bed with Brienne, fucking her. If only the rest of his days could be so.

“As for tits you deem too small. . .” he continued, voice muffled as he was still kissing her tits, taking one nipple in his mouth, turning to take the other. He grazed his teeth on a swollen tip and she hissed, not from pain, he knew. He licked at the valley between her tits, sucking briefly on her throat before biting at her lower lip gently. Half-closed sapphire eyes gazed at him.

“I can put the entire thing in my mouth,” he said upon releasing her lips. He wrapped his right arm around her, tugged at her hair with his left hand before lowering it to her tits. He kissed her up and down her neck, her jaw, as he pinched her nipple again. “Why would that be a source of complaint, Brienne?”

“I only want to please you,” she repeated, panting.

“Only if you please yourself,” he told her before taking her mouth.

“Oh, Jaime,” she hugged him tightly. He smiled through their kiss as she took his hand and pressed it to her tits. “Please. _Please._ ”

He obeyed her, kissing her hard before taking her nipples in his mouth again. He sucked and pinched the reddened nubs, plucked them, pulled them roughly, so as to make her wail and her cunt wet. Then he tongued them, loving how she pressed his head to and begged for more, please, please, more. He obliged, encouraged by her breathless sounds of pleasure. He was so fucking hard but not yet, not yet. He wanted her to know that her pleasure was not only from spreading her legs and accepting his cock.

As his kissed made her tits heavy and her nipples to swell, his hand slipped under the water, seeking her cunt. He was sure the warmth surrounding them was from her cunt and she must be dripping.

_She was._

Brienne shouted as he shoved two fingers inside her cunt immediately, his right arm keeping her fused to him so he could continue feasting on her nipples. She trembled yet squeezed around his fingers as they fucked her, water and her dew making her so fucking slippery and just _heaven_. Her nipples were now harder than pebbles and he fed on them harshly, the assault of his fingers merciless.

_“Jaime!”_

He groaned as she came, as he too was spilling in the bath. He gasped and tightened his mouth around her nipples, thrusting his fingers in the tightening vise of her cunt as she moved up and down. Water spilled wildly on the floor, wetting the candles, their boots. The tub scraped across the floor from the rough movements of their bodies.

Brienne slumped against him, her tits on his face. He would probably be smothered if they were any bigger. Lazily, he tonged a nipple again and pulled his fingers out of softened cunt. He cradled her in his arms, urging her to lift her head from his shoulder to look at him. Then he helped himself to her mouth.

His cock was wrung out but there was the familiar tightening again. Seven Hells. His body was still heavy from his own release, but his cock was getting ready again.

With great reluctance, he ended their kiss. Brienne whined and leaned toward him, wanting more. He smiled and licked her lips. “The water is getting cold, my love.”

She sighed and opened her eyes. Her cheeks had reddened at his endearment.

“Shall we get out, my love?” His finger circled her scar and her eyes shone.

“Will you help me? I—I don’t trust my legs.”

He didn’t trust his own either but she was his lady. He was the first to leave, wanting to show off his wet, scarred, warrior’s body to his wife as he went to get her a towel. He dried himself first before going to her. She smiled shyly and stepped out. He immediately cloaked her in the damp warmth of the towel.

They smiled at each other as he patted her dry, making sure to kiss her on the cheek and the neck, her lips. He felt the warmth of her blush as he deliberately lingered drying her tits. He moved to kneel before her again.

“Jaime, I can do that,” she said, her voice shaky.

“But you might slip, my love,” he said, deciding this would be what he would call her. Not that he was dropping wench. “Your feet are wet. Your cunt continues to pour honey.”

He suddenly flung the towel away and licked her thighs. She tasted of herself and his semen, because he had spilled on her too. As his name fell in a sharp cry from her lips, he pressed his mouth on her wet, hairy cunt. For her, he fought to survive. He kissed her firmly on the slit and got to his feet, pleased to see her covered from head to toe in the sweet pink of her blush.

“To bed, wench,” he said, making a grand gesture toward it.

“I need my shift,” she told him, looking around.

“Brienne,” he said, getting a little impatient but still delighted with her innocence.

“Yes, Jaime?”

“Do you remember a moment when I fucked you and you were dressed?”

“Er, no.”

“So, why should tonight be any different?”

Her eyes widened and he smirked. “To bed, sweetheart,” he told her again.

He caught her eyes darkening with a wave of lust but she was quick to turn away and hurry to their bed. Jaime strode to a table and removed the silver dome covering the pheasant dish. He breathed in the aroma of sauce and spices. As instructed, the servants had cut the meat into strips. He took the plate to bed with him.

Brienne, who was hugging a pillow in a feeble attempt at modesty, gave him a puzzled look. “Are we eating in bed?”

“Yes,” he said, joining her. He glanced at the pillow then raised an eyebrow at her. “I can’t fuck you with that between us, my love. I mean, I sure can but I’d rather not. Why would you deprive me of your beautiful tits?”

“Gods, Jaime,” she breathed, slowly removing it from her. “The things you say.”

“Are you embarrassed?”

“I should be.”

“You love it.” He grinned. “Good. But I promise I will attempt a sonnet someday.”

“You forget I like your bluntness,” she reminded him as he picked up a piece of the pheasant from the plate. She moaned, smelling the food. “Oh. That smells wonderful.”

“Here. Open your mouth.” She blushed again but did as he asked. He slipped a morsel of the meat inside and watched pleasure spread across her face.

“It’s so good. I much prefer pheasant to fish,” she confessed while chewing.

“Me too,” he said. “Except oysters. Unfortunately, they’re not in season.”

“Not for another month, no,” she told him before he put another piece of the meat in her mouth. Her eyes sparkled. “Do you mean to feed me all night? When do I get to feed you?”

He smiled and took another piece from the plate. “Oh, you will. Allow me to show you.”

She nodded.

“Lie back, Brienne. On your back. There.” His eyes gleamed in appreciation. Pink skin, freckles, tight nipples and flushed tits, hairy cunt and powerful thighs. “A buffet of wench, indeed.”

She giggled. The sound was surprising. He looked forward to hearing it more. 

He swiped a piece of the pheasant around her nipples, startling her. But she remained still, watching him. Then he held it towards her mouth and she opened it again. He made sure to slip a finger inside so she would lick him too. He watched her chew, her expression expectant, hopeful.

“This is how you’ll be feeding me,” he explained, bringing his mouth to her nipple. He cupped her tit and sucked on its plump, red tip. An explosion of woman and spices filled  his mouth. _A gift from the Seven._ He covered her nipple with frenzied licking and suckling. 

Brienne seized at his head. _“Oh, gods.”_

“I knew you’d be delicious.” He whispered, turning his head to taste the other succulent nub gleaming with oil. He suckled her furiously.

_“Jaime.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oysters are an aphrodisiac but I think they're an acquired taste. Hell, they're really delicious when fresh but it's kind of icky bringing those slimy things to bed. Hence, we have the more practical and flavorful pheasant.
> 
> Let's remember that romance isn't really Jaime's thing so he's also learning. Maybe Tyrion suggested oysters but as the chapter shows, they were not in season. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Fifth Conquest: Clitoris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The jewel of Westeros is not the Westerlands nor the Riverlands. It’s certainly not Winterfell. Forget Dorne. A jewel is one that is raw, and should be left as such to bloom.Too many men think to take the capital too fast, if you ask me. Which is reflective of how they are with women. And most of the time, they forget that the jewel is the one her cunt hides. Tits will you get you somewhere but her clit is the equivalent of conquering all the Seven Kingdoms.”  
>  Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo. . .a few things.
> 
> Things get quite graphic towards the end. 
> 
> Just keep in mind that when Jaime is with Brienne, he believes he could be a better man, alright?

 

Brienne’s harsh, loud breathing echoed throughout the chamber as Jaime ran a wedge of winter pear up the bunched muscles of her leg. She lay with her arms curved toward her ears, tits gleaming from the sauces of the morsels of pheasant he had touched her with. On her stomach were tracks of oil and water, from the trail of more meat and other slices of vegetables and fruits he had put there.

Her legs began to close as the wedge approached her cunt. Jaime shook his head slowly, making a tutting sound.

“It tickles,” she explained, blushing. She looked away as if embarrassed then back at him, her expression apologetic.

“Oh, wench,”  he said, grinning. “You shouldn’t have told me that.”

Realizing what he could do with this information, she sent him a warning look. “Don’t you dare, Jaime. I don’t like being tickled.”

“Hmm. We shall see,”  he said. He glanced at his hand trapped between her knees. “Your legs, Brienne. You’ll spread them for my cock, not for this small piece of fruit?”

She appeared to consider it, gave a brief nod and spread her legs. Jaime’s eyes rested longingly on her cunt. Her bush was a thick tangle of rough, dirty-blond curls. Under them was the softest, tightest cunt. Her spread legs allowed him a peek of the rose-pink flesh of her slit, the pump, pink button of her clitoris in between. He firmed his grip on the pear and looked at Brienne’s face.

He leaned in, catching her eye. He sighed as her fingers fluttered to his jaw, meeting him halfway for the kiss. Their lips met, a deep, immediate slant of mouth and push of tongues in each other. He trailed the wedge close to her cunt, hearing the ruffle of curls through the wet lashes of their kiss. He slipped the fruit inside her cunt.

Brienne gasped, stilling and moving to pull away but he was quick to catch her swollen lip between his teeth. He kissed her, stump useless in cradling her face but she didn’t move, knowing what he wanted. He fucked the wedge into her cunt. She breathed harshly against his mouth, lips pursing to kiss him. He flattened her on the bed, resting his full weight on her strong body. Then he removed the wedge from her. She whimpered in protest at their interrupted kiss but fell silent as he put the wedge between his teeth. He turned back to her and she blushed.

She took him in her arms this time and opened her mouth, taking a bite off the fruit. He smirked and kept kissing her as they chewed, settling on her once again. A hard leg wrapped around his hip, drawing him closer.

He turned to cover her cheek and neck with kisses again. She stroked him, shyly kissed him back on the temple, along his hair, innocently teased him with the glide of her toe on the back of his calf.

The silk sheets of their bed were stained from the food spilled from their sensual play. There was no hope of using them again, but he liked seeing the tracks of grease, sauce, and wine. He turned, meaning to have Brienne lie over him when he accidentally kicked the tray that held what little remained of their food. Brienne squawked and he chuckled against her tits, glancing to inspect the damage on the fine bedding they were on.

“Jaime,” she asked, fingers pushing against his hair to get his attention. “You don’t mean for us to sleep on something soiled, do you?”

He smirked and turned, putting her above him. She gasped. “Who told you we were sleeping, wench?”

She blinked at him. “W-What are we going to do?”

He had to laugh and kissed her adoringly on the mouth. “Brienne, if you’re still asking that question, I won’t mind repeating tonight’s repertoire from the very beginning. You only have to ask.” He pulled her down to his chest, enjoying the deepening pink on her face. She slipped one leg between his thighs. “I want it to be clear to you that your lion intends to have you as much as possible for the rest of the night. Until sunrise too.”

Another sweet smile with her big teeth. She put her head on his chest. Their bed was long, so her feet didn’t stick out past the edge.

“I love it when my lion haves me,” she murmurs. “I am his, after all.”

“I do agree about the state of our sheets, wench,” he says, his palm landing on a sticky spot. This must be where he ended up quashing a fruit because she had kissed him with sudden abandon.

She turned and rested her chin on his chest. Her sapphire eyes twinkled. “Whatever will we do about them?”

He loved the spark of confidence in his wife. She will always be shy, he knew. But it was amazing what trust and love could do to her. In just a few hours, she had done and said things she had not said in their four moons as man and wife. And even before he wrapped her in the weathered Lannister cloak after saying their vows in front of a septon.

He sighed dramatically. “I guess this means we’ll have to put you in clothes, Brienne.”

She giggled and kissed him, first on the lips, then down his neck, toward his chest. He groaned in pleasure as she tongued the sticky and greasy spots of food there, catching his nipple between her lips. She rolled off him, sending another plate crashing to floor. She yelped, hands flying to her tits in surprised, before suddenly bursting into laughter.

Jaime sat up, watching as she darted around their chamber. She picked up her robe draped on a velvet crimson chair. It was his wedding gift to her, along with a dragonglass dagger with an ornate hilt of rubies and sapphires. The blade was in celebration of her as warrior and knight, as his wife, and the robe was because he also loved that she was a woman who had achieved so much.

She preferred practical clothes and Jaime kept that in mind. But he couldn’t resist selecting homespun silk in deep sapphire blue. He also picked the gold cloth that went to its collar and cuffs. The sleeves were wide rather than the shape of a bell.

She was a vision in just freckles and skin, hands covering her kiss-swollen tits protectively as she slipped on the robe. The firm muscles of the backs of her thighs flexed, and her firm, pale bottom jiggled before she put on the robe. She turned to Jaime and he sighed longingly at the sight of her cunt.

“We should get you dressed too,” she told him, taking his robe from the chair too. It was identical to hers. He caught it as she threw at him while she hurried out of their intimate chambers to ring the bell for a servant.

He grinned at the stains left by food on his skin before putting the robe on. As he finished, he heard Brienne speak with a servant.

“We request for. . .for fresh sheets.” He could hear her blushing, as well as her thoughts that perhaps this was a task best left to her husband. “Fresh sheets,” she repeated, clearing her throat and speaking with some authority. “And a basin of warm water. We would like a wash.”

“At once, my lady,” the servant agreed, and he heard the door close.

He remembered the morning after he and Cersei slept together, after the execution of Ellaria Sand. He had pleaded for caution but she smugly put on her robe and went to instruct the servant to put fresh sheets on the bed. She smirked at him and he had chuckled, relieved and overwhelmed that at last they could really be together, will no longer have to hide.

Cersei promised. And what she had, she took back. For love, Jaime had crippled the Stark boy. For love, he had murdered a cousin to return to Cersei. For love he had poisoned Olenna Tyrell. Cersei had to threaten him with murder and the furious hiss that she intended to marry Euron Greyjoy for him to finally see the light. He had loved her. She had used him.

He knotted the robe and went to join Brienne in the outer chambers, where she was pouring the smooth, amber-gold liquid of the wine from the Jade Sea into goblets. She had clearly not thought to look into the mirror first before calling on the servant.

Her pale hair was a mussed halo, and on the corner of her swollen lips was a drying smear of savory brown sauce from the pheasant. She turned, still not noticing him. She had not belted her robe securely, so soft, slight curve of a tit peeked from the neckline.

And clearly visible against the silk was the press her tight nipples. . .and two round stains from his the food and his spit.

Jaime didn’t know whether to run to her and fuck her or yell that she should be more careful. She was his. Nobody else should see her charms. He struggled for calm and approached her. She looked up from pouring the wine and smiled at him shyly.

“I did not know we have such fine wine,” she said, giving him the goblet. “Where did you procure it? Wines from across the Jade Sea are very rare.”

“From your father’s cellar,” he replied, taking a sip. The smooth slide of the wine was a sweet burn in his throat. Fucking potent too. It was just what he needed. “I was told he was saving it for your marriage. Not to the Kingslayer, however.”

Brienne looked at him, her eyes sad. “Don’t do that.”

“What is it?”

“You may have betrayed Aerys,” she said softly. “But you saved half a million people, Jaime. He betrayed them first by wishing to burn everything and everyone.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it pains you. I’m not like Tyrion, unfortunately. Nobody can wound him with rude comments about being a dwarf.”

“I don’t want you to be like Tyrion. I just want you to be you. I love you.” She said it simply, no resignation, no tiredness. It was a simple fact. Damn. He would have to sit down. Brienne was the only woman who didn’t have to do anything to get him weak in the knees.

She sipped her wine then looked at him again. “I don’t want you to forget who you used to be, Jaime. It’s part of who you are and the good man that is my husband. You always make the harder choice. That’s why you’re the bravest and the best of men. That I wish you’d remember.”

He finished his wine, put the goblet on a table and opened his arms. His face was tensed from the tumult of emotions washing over him.  “Come here,” he said unsteadily.

She hurried to him, hugging him eagerly. He held her tightly, wishing for her to lean on him but in fact the other way happened. Just as he could always believe in her love and trust in her honor, so did he in her strength. Warm lips slick from the wine brushed her neck, a tongue flicking out upon reaching the sensitive line between her head and the back of her flushed ear. As she gasped and sank against him, he used his stump to urge her head toward him. He took her lips in a gentle kiss that brimmed with endless want and need.

Spice, him, and wine were found in the recesses of her mouth. The unique flavor had him clinging to her even more tightly. He devoured her plump lips, enjoying her shiver of desire as her hands caressed his chest through the silk. Her thigh brushed against his erection. He caressed the long line of her back, wishing it was flesh he was touching. As he pulled her robe open, he demanded, “Who the hell were you talking to, Brienne?”

“Huh?” She asked, a little dazed from their kiss. Jaime kept kissing her, loosening the knot of her robe. She bit him on the lower lip and he chuckled. He pulled the garment off her and kissed her quickly in the mouth, hoping to distract her from her own nudity. Her back faced the heavy double doors and whoever would walk through would see the high, pale moons of her ass first.

But he couldn’t stop himself. He licked her collarbones then up her throat. “Wench, who?”

“Oh. Um. Your squire. Caron. Is that his name?” She panted, throwing her arms and engulfing him in a fierce hug. He would riot if she held him any looser. He wanted to rage. Not at her. His squire. He hoped the boy was discreet.

He lowered his palm between them, needing the warmth and wetness of her cunt to calm him from going after the boy and giving him a firm warning. Brienne, still so innocent and oblivious to her husband’s temper, was unknowingly deploying her chapped lips and rough, calloused hands against his need to roar.

What was it that Tyrion had said earlier? _“The jewel of Westeros is not the Westerlands nor the Riverlands. It’s certainly not Winterfell. Forget Dorne. A jewel is one that is raw, and should be left as such to bloom.” He put the marker on King’s Landing. “Too many men think to take the capital too fast, if you ask me. Which is reflective of how they are with women. And most of the time, they forget that the jewel is the one her cunt hides. Tits will you get you somewhere but her clit is the equivalent of conquering all the Seven Kingdoms.”_

Jaime kissed her back bruisingly before suddenly pulling away. His eyes were smoldering emeralds. “My lady wife?” he grunted.

Pale eyelashes fluttered at him. “My lord?”

“When I’m kissing you, say only my name.”

“But you were asking—” she tried to protest but he was kissing her again. He thought she laughed huskily but it was lost in their deepening kiss.

Holding her around the waist, he moved her, forcing her to walk back until hitting the edge of a chaise lounge. She gasped and gripped him around the shoulders and he smirked.

“Sit down, Brienne.”

“Jaime?” Realization was dawning on her. “Why am I naked?”

His expression was completely innocent. “Shouldn’t you be, when alone with your husband?”

As she mulled over an answer, he gently nudged her down. Wide blue eyes stared at him then at his cock bobbing through the slit of the robe. He coughed, flushing and started undressing. Now she lit up.

“Jaime, I want to help,” she said, and without waiting for his reply, unknotted the sash. She licked her lips as she gave him her sapphire eyes again. His lips quirked in a small smile as he removed the robe and knelt in front of her.

“Are we playing at being the septon?” She asked. She had really enjoyed the sensual games involving the food.

“No games this time,” he told her. He spotted his goblet on the table and stood to pour more wine on it. An idea was forming in his mind.

He hoped Brienne wouldn’t hit him. Or worse, choke.

He returned to her, putting the half-full goblet on the table next to the chaise lounge. Brienne watched him, question in her eyes. But she trusted him now. He could feel it. She was no longer covering her tits but oh, there was still her sweet blush. Nothing he would change about that.

He knelt in front of her again. She was a pink, freckled goddess with moonlight hair sitting on a chair that was almost as blue as her eyes. He admired the muscles in her shoulders and arms that suggested her great strength, wanted to kiss her palms roughened by sword and weapons. He settled for his hand and stump touching her reverently instead, watching his hand and stump on her thighs. His skin was gold against the pale columns of her thighs.

Brienne was breathing loudly again, watching him expectantly. Her body was stained from food and spit, sticky from the wine. She was perfect.

He caressed light circles on her thigh, his eyes darting between her face then her cunt. He could smell her. That wet, rich perfume of a woman’s arousal spiking with every stroke on her skin. He longed to cover her cunt with more kisses but he only had a little time to wait. Clinging to his rapidly disappearing discipline, he cupped one of her tits, tugging at the nipple gently.

“Oh,” she said with a long sigh. _“Jaime.”_

He rose on his knees to kiss her there, then on the other nipple. Her head lolled heavily as she slipped her fingers through his hair. His soft, gentle suckles filled the room.

“Wench,” he whispered, kissing the curve of her tits. “Would you like wine?”

She nodded.

He reluctantly removed himself from but only for the briefest of moments. He tipped the goblet toward her mouth. “Open.”

“Can’t you just—”

He shook his head gently. “You’ll like what I have in mind. I promise.”

“Oh. I see.” She licked her lips, a thoughtful look on her face. She opened her mouth.

“Tip your head back a little, wench. And you don’t have to get all the wine. In fact, I encourage that you don’t.”

“Then why is my mouth open?”

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

She gave him another look then opened her mouth again. “I love you,” he told her just before tipping the goblet and pouring the wine into her mouth.

Brienne squawked in surprise, tried to swallow but sputtered then coughed. Jaime immediately stopped, quickly regretting the idea. In his mind there seemed much promise in it. As Brienne wheezed, her sat down beside her and rubbed her between the shoulders, murmuring his apologies and kissing her. She was quick to calm, and to his relief, did not punch him. But her face was red and she was still trying to clear his throat. Jaime kissed her in apology again then went to get her water. He remembered a pitcher by their bed.

He hurriedly poured its contents into another goblet and rushed to her. “Thank you,” she whispered, glugging it. Her throat soothed, he took it from her and sat down again, butting her broad shoulder with his head.

“I’m sorry, wench. I didn’t think it would go this way.”

She shook her head and kissed him on the cheek. “You were trying to pleasure me, Jaime. There’s nothing to be angry about. A pity for the wine, though,” she added, looking down at herself.

He stared at her too. The wet gold hue of the wine dripped from her nipples, gathered in her belly button. Her thighs were stained too. As she continued inspecting herself, she opened her legs a little and he saw the familiar gleam of the wine on her cunt. He swallowed and blinked rapidly, schooling his face in a casual expression when she returned her attention to him.

“Maybe we should have fresh bathwater,” she said.

“What for?” Jaime asked. Brienne was irresistible when fresh and clean from a bath but looking all mussed up and messy was doing things to his cock. He cleared his throat again, remembering the first time they fought, when he meant to kill her, and she intent on beating him to it. She was wet and muddy, ugly and _fucking magnificent._

“I’m staining the chair,” she went on to say, moving to leave until he stopped her with his stump on her thigh. He smirked and moved to kneel before her again. “J-Jaime?”

“So we stain it. There will always be other chairs,” he drawled, nudging her legs apart. He took her ankle to pick it up from the floor and set it on the edge of the seat. “But nothing will have the memory of what will happen next.”

“Memory?” She echoed faintly as he set her other foot on the edge. She blushed wildly upon realizing her wanton position. “J-Jaime, are you—are you---”

She didn’t finish speaking because he started kissing her inner thigh.  A moan left her lips as she fell back on chair, pushing her cunt closer to his cheek. He inhaled the womanly spice of her, now laced with wine. Nuzzled his cheek against the curls sodden by her desire and the potent vintage before turning to press a full kiss right on the folds.

He scooped her hips closer to the edge, the better to kiss and drag his tongue up and down the slickening folds. His wet, hungry laps were the chorus to her moans and cries. Sweat mixed with the wine staining her body, pouring into the crevices of her and toward his tongue. He thumbed her cunt open, baring the pouting thrust of her clit.

Gods. It was so pink. A tiny, fat nub of flesh but he knew what to do with it. And Brienne knew what he could do to it. Every morning, he tasted her, hungry for the flavor of her cunt and the faint trace of his semen. He liked making her gasp and cry out with his tongue fucking her, his lips sucking on this bit of flesh.

He growled, spreading her cunt lips farther apart and clamped his lips around her clit.

Her hips lurched sharply. Her eyes flew wide open. “Jaime!”

Her cries echoed throughout the chamber, spurring him to harder suckles of her flesh. She rocked her hips against him, panting loudly, chanting his name breathlessly, a prayer thrown to Seven Heavens. But he was the one praying. Worshipping her. Every suckle of his lips and thrust of his tongue was a vow, a declaration. He loved her. Loved her with everything he had.

He pulled at her clit with his lips, sucked it, licked it, then sucked it again, gauging the volume and frequency of her shrieks of his name. He swallowed every drop of her, wine, woman, spice, oil, sweet nectar from fruit. He opened his mouth, pressing his cheeks on her rough cunt hairs and continuing his feast, giving in to the greed of desire. Sucking her clit drew the sharpest, sexiest cries.

His world was Brienne. Her cunt, her clit, her scent, her cries. _Her._  He barely noticed the painful grip of her hand on his hair. Honey poured from her slit and he captured every drop of it, licking her clean, sucking her gently now. He gentled the swipes of his tongue to bring her down from the high of her release.

She collapsed against the chair with a gasp. He slumped on her lap, feeling her drop her feet to the floor. As he caught his breath, he realized he still had quite a predicament. Groaning, he gripped his cock. _Fuck._ His cock was never going soft tonight, was it?

Wearily, he got to his feet, hand on his cock. Brienne stared at him with dazed eyes. He pointed his cock toward her mouth.

“I need you,” he begged.

She stared in his eyes, showing him the soft glow that he knew was love.  

“Come here,” she whispered, her hands catching him by the hips. Jaime could kiss her. Instead, he ringed his leaking cock around her plump lips.

Someone knocked on the door. “M-My lady? My lord? Is everything alright?”

Jaime cursed under his breath. Caron. Brienne looked panicked so he bent to kiss her on the mouth, making her forget the hesitant raps on the door. When she moaned, he ended their kiss and seized his cock.

“You shall wait until we have need of you,” he commanded over his shoulder.

Brienne leaned in to wrap her mouth around his cock.

Jaime closed his eyes. He was no kingslayer, but a god.


	6. Sixth Conquest: Cunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Our Andal ancestors have always known that to conquer land, first they must own the sea,” Tyrion had told him. “Your armies may have the strongest and bravest of men, each ready to die for you, Jaime. But they are nothing without water. It soothes throats parched from battle cries. It brings food for a soldier to fight another day. To own the sea, you must learn to read the sky, the sun. A sea is like a woman truly loved. The Narrow Sea—easy to cross from Essos to Westeros and vice versa. Yet still the most perilous with her storms. It is fatal for a man who crosses her and thinks only of himself. A whore will give you practiced screams when you pound her cunt. But the woman you love, if you love her, will give you more than her cries of pleasure.”
> 
> “That’s not how I am,” Jaime said, hurt by the insinuation.
> 
> “I know you’re not. But does Brienne know? It’s not that she doubts how you feel. But does she really know?”

Brienne dipped the towel in the warm water, wrung it dry and scrubbed it on her neck and shoulders. Jaime smiled at her brisk, efficient motions. While he was proudly nude as he cleaned himself, she had a towel knotted around her waist. Her upper body was bare. It would be a while before she had the confidence to traipse around their chambers in just her freckles. He wasn’t disappointed, though.

Modesty and shyness appealed to him. It wasn’t that Brienne still behaved like a maiden. She’d had moments of brazenness even before their marriage—or as brazen as she knew to be. She was still learning what she liked in bed, and Jaime had some work ahead in encouraging her to communicate what she desired form him. He felt their arrangement would be him following her in the battlefield and her listening to him in bed.

For the first time in her life, someone appreciated her as she is. No dresses, no behavior that curtailed her inclination to untraditional pursuits. She had been insulted for her height, her small tits. Made to feel less human for not being classical attractive. Belittled for knowing fighting techniques rather than stitches.

It wasn’t too long ago that he was one of them. One had to battle a monster to appreciate true beauty. Once he did, he couldn’t stop seeing it.

He was light on his feet but weak in the knees from fucking his wife’s big, wide mouth. Unbelievable. Brienne took pleasure being on her knees and letting him use her so. Cersei on her knees made him feel like a subject, but at the service of her pleasure. She misliked his taste too, unlike his wife who eagerly sucked him dry and licked him clean. He did not long for the sure way his sister had sucked his cock. It was Brienne’s eagerness and the slumberous gaze of her sapphire eyes that he wanted and would dream about.

In the aftermath of the worst battle against the undead that halved their army, it was Brienne who had sought him in the battlefield. She was screaming and crying. Once finding him on his feet and alive, she had ranted, growled, came close to punching him for not acknowledging her calls right away.

Once they were in the tent, her big hands tore at his breeches. She took him hard in her mouth. Her eyes were bright from tears shed in fear over his death. Jaime had wanted to take her in his arms and assure her but she refused to be budged from his cock. She was still sobbing after his release, his semen all over her face and mixing with her tears. He had kissed her then, with a hunger and desperation he had never known. He tasted himself and her salt. She confessed that she had to feel him as she had, in her mouth. She needed to know he was alive this way, hard and pulsing on her tongue.

She begged him to fuck her mouth through the night. While what remained of their soldiers slept for the next round of fighting, they were awake, kissing and her, taking him in her throat over and over.

He watched as she patted her face with the towel. The motions drew her tits higher, gently swaying as she went about the task. With the golden light of the fireplace behind her, she looked delicate and strong, like a detailed marble statue. Her skin was covered in small purple marks from his kisses, especially around the tits. Unaware at the pleasure she was giving him, she put the towel next to the basin and removed the towel from her waist.

She had a straight, firm waist. Aside from the scars on her face and neck, there were also raised and roughened surfaces from healed wounds. There was a long, jagged line on her stomach from when a had bitten her when she’d fallen during a battle. Another was on her right thigh, from a sword that would have cleaved it in two.

When she turned to him, getting the towel and wiping the lower regions of her body, his eyes were already on her cunt.

Dirty-blond curls darker than the pale mess on her head covered her cunt. It was a thick, rough cluster, warm and perfect for protecting his aching stump from the bite of winter, or his hand. He liked to sleep with his hand between her thighs, fingers tucked deep in her cunt still wet from their fucking. He liked watching her sweat and flush as his fingers fucked her, but the dark had its appeal too. Just feeling her swell and tighten around him, her warm, moist back sliding against his chest—she was wetter too.

Despite knowing each other for a long time, and loving and fucking each other was still quite new. Jaime realized that there was much about his wife, and women, that he had yet to know.

From Tyrion, he knew that there were whores who kept their cunts with only minimal hair or none at all. But he had never seen a woman as such. Until his wife.

According to Brienne, it was the custom for the women in Tarth to keep their cunts bare. The nights were chilly due to the year-long powerful breeze from the surrounding sea, but days could get as hot as Dorne. Removing the hair from the pubic regions, the armpits and the legs—of men and women—gave them some relief from the scorching heat. It was a task that demanded assistance, no matter one’s skill with the blade. Brienne couldn’t stick to this practice away from the Sapphire Isle.

He found out about it on their first night in Evenfall Fall. Slipping his hand between her thighs, he was shocked to find her amazingly soft and smooth. That was when she stammered about the practice in Tarth, blinking rapidly at him and getting redder at every word. Maybe the fact that he had her spread her legs for him to see contributed to her inability to form a complete sentence.

Fascinated, he insisted on keeping their chambers awashed in candlelight the entire night for a week. Her cunt was more beautiful than anything he had seen—except for her eyes. The triangle of skin was paler than the rest of her, and so fucking soft. He would part her slit with his thumb and felt like shouting his thanks to the gods for having every right to fuck this beautiful, pink flesh, that it was the woman he loved. His mouth hardly left her cunt, nor his hand or cock. She felt so smooth. So plump. When she sleeping away the exhaustion of getting fucked by her lion, he would gently prod her cunt lips open just to see the thick fluid of his semen dripping out of her. Then he woke her up to for another long round of fucking.

Her asshole was stripped of its hairs too. The pink pucker made his cock twitch.

She had to get shaved every month, but he missed the hairs scratching at his cheek. He also liked finding the surprise of her clit under all those curls, rather than seeing it right away. And the sounds when he fucked her—without her thick bush it was just squeaks. The hairs added the rustling note.

Thus, Brienne let the hair grow. He loved how she smelled with them—sweet and thick musk, the faintest note of sweat. He enjoyed pushing his tongue in her cunt when she was fresh and cool from a bath, or hot and dripping with sweat after sparring.

Realizing that he was watching her, she froze mid-scrub and flushed. He smiled and went to her, cupping her cheek first before sliding his palm down her neck, squeezing her tits possessively before cupping her on the cunt firmly. He kissed her on the shoulder and she whimpered softly, giving him sapphire eyes limpid with want. He rubbed his hardening cock against the muscular curve of her ass.

“Don’t scrub too hard, wench,” he whispered, startling her with a chaste kiss on the cheek. He removed his hand when she suddenly grunted, shook her head. He grinned against her ear as she put his hand back on her cunt. Her neck turned pink.

“Jaime,” she whispered breathlessly, “would you. . .hold me while I finish? I promise I won’t be long.”

He bit the tip of her ear then licked the line behind it. She gasped and tightened her hold on his hand. “Why the rush? I’m right where I want to be,” he assured her. He kissed her again.

She bit her lip then resumed scrubbing the grease from the rest of her body. It got awkward when she had to reach down her thighs. He offered to get those areas from her, earning a grateful smile followed by a moan when he licked her instead.

Clean, fresh sheets were on the bed now. The servants had to listen to his grunts and groans as the Evenstar pleasured his cock. Unsteady on his feet following his release, Jaime barely had time to cover up before Brienne, flinging on her robe, hurried to the door with surprising ease. The staff were hasty in removing the dirty sheets and the plates fallen on the floor. When Jaime and Brienne were alone again, they looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Brienne pulled him back up to his feet, took his hand and led him back to bed. The servants had set up a table of simple treats without being told—cheese rich with herbs, a loaf of crusty bread, fruits and a fresh bottle of wine. But it wasn’t food they needed but each other again.

Jaime followed her down on the bed, his eyes never leaving her. She turned on her side, made herself comfortable. He saw the struggle in her face as she thought to sneak a glance at the sheets she knew he won’t allow to cover her for now.

He indulged in the vision of her covered in freckles and cloaked firelight. When Tyrion had thought to use the map of Westeros to illustrate the ways Jaime could make his wife fall apart and wilder with need, he had soundly objected. But he realized now that that the muscles that so defined Brienne’s body could be likened to the rough topography of the continent.

Planning, patience, cunning and a dedicated army led to conquests of lands. But not for a woman. It was knowing _her_ , what she liked and respecting them, appreciating and loving her. The imperfections that made Brienne target practice for ridicule and cruelty were what made _her_ , and most beautiful, to him. She was as stubborn as a mule, still too honorable for her own good, still innocent despite the ravages of war. He loved all of that about her.

He bent to kiss her feet—making her hiss in surprise before giggle when his lips landed on a ticklish arch. Her legs were slow to part but they did on her own, without the press of his hand. He nipped at a knobby ankle, felt the hard tense of muscle and bone under skin. Slowly, he kissed up her legs.

_“Our Andal ancestors have always known that to conquer land, first they must own the sea,” Tyrion had told him. “Your armies may have the strongest and bravest of men, each ready to die for you, Jaime. But they are nothing without water. It soothes throats parched from battle cries. It brings food for a soldier to fight  another day. To own the sea, you must learn to read the sky, the sun. A sea is like a woman truly loved. The Narrow Sea—easy to cross from Essos to Westeros and vice versa. Yet still the most perilous with her storms. It is fatal for a man who crosses her and thinks only of himself. A whore will give you practiced screams when you pound her cunt. But the woman you love, if you love her, will give you more than her cries of pleasure.”_

_“That’s not how I am,” Jaime said, hurt by the insinuation._

_“I know you’re not.  But does Brienne know? It’s not that she doubts how you feel. But does she really know?”_

Brienne’s fingers combed through his hair as his lips brushed higher on her thighs. Thick columns of ivory splashed with freckles, covered in skin that rivaled silk, despite raised bumps of old scars. He pushed her left thigh farther away, looking for the mark he left there.

It had been the last time he hurt somebody with his sword hand.

She watched him seek that old scar, a pale mark of a slash. He had savored the blood flowing from that wound, the reddest rose his eyes saw. He glanced at her, saw that she understood its significance to him, to them. Staring at her, he kissed the mark deeply, sweetly.

He could smell her arousal again, now laced with anticipation. He was salivating over the prospect of sinking his tongue in her cunt again. But he controlled himself, forced himself to nibble on other delectable parts of his warrior wench.

She sighed as he grazed his teeth on her hipbones, whimpered softly as he kissed the patch of skin just above her cunt and below her belly button. Dipped a tongue there, licked up until he could fully mouth one of her tits. She cradled him there, her legs thrashing gently under him. His kisses on her tits firmed as her thigh grazed his erect cock. Tugged at his hair with some force when he lashed a pouting nipple with the tip of his tongue. As he dragged her other nipple into his mouth, she reached for his stump and brought it to her lips.

The gentlest kisses landed on the most broken part of him. With every kiss she gave, he gave it back twice hungrier. Somehow, his scars didn’t look as grotesque next to her swollen lips. He would always miss his hand, not so much for the reputation it brought him but that he could never touch Brienne as he would like, as he knew she would like.

But loving her made him feel whole. And in his heart, he believed he still was, despite the visual proof to the contrary.

Her tits were slick from his spit before he kissed her on the throat. He nipped at the strong, gentle lines tensing then relaxing under his kisses before finally taking the prize that was her soft, pillowy mouth. She still tasted of him.

He suddenly grabbed her by the back of her shoulders and turned so they were on their sides facing each other. He slipped his stump under her neck, hooked her leg high on his hip. As their lips fused in kisses that approached the heat of the sun, his hand lowered to her cunt.

She moaned against his tongue as he discovered her heavily soaked and dripping down to her thighs, that there was a growing patch of moisture on the sheet under her. He coaxed her lips to open wider, to fuck her with tongue, matching the rhythm of his fingers fucking her cunt.

_She is so fucking slippery._

“Gods, woman,” he groaned, biting her lower lip quite harshly. His fingers thrust faster. “When are you not wet?”

She squirmed and gasped. _“Jaime.”_

“Do you wish for my cock inside you all day?” He demanded, kissing her, licking her. He curled his fingers hard in her cunt. “When in council with your boring lords, when we spar, when you go around Tarth checking on your people—do you regret not having my cock inside you?”

“I do,” she whined. There would be scratches on his arms tomorrow and he would be proud of them. “Gods, _Jaime_. I do. _Yes_. I want you inside me for always.”

“Stay here the whole day tomorrow,” he begged, kissing her more forcefully. “Let me fuck your mouth and cunt. _I can’t stop wanting you.”_

“Please, Jaime.” She suddenly yanked him from her lips. Her eyes were watery. “ _Don’t. Don’t_. I’ve never. . .” she didn’t finish because she resumed their kiss. The push of her body forced him on his back.

“ _I don’t want to_. I won’t,” he grunted, startled and pleased with her sudden excitement. He groaned as she kissed down his chest. “I love you, Brienne.” He suddenly grabbed at her hair, making her yelp. But he quickly smothered it with a kiss on her crushable mouth. She cupped his face but he suddenly set her away, his eyes emerald fire.

“I get to choose who I love,” he declared. “Love is a choice. And it’s you, Brienne. It should have always been you.”

She stared at him, at first stunned before her face softened into hope and relief.

Then she started turning away. He frowned and stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I. . .well, aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“Ah.”

Then pushed against her, causing her to topple on her back and him landing on top of her. He grabbed his cock and shoved it inside her in one smooth, hard thrust. Brienne shrieked, one of her legs rising. He pulled it over his shoulder, stared right into her wide eyes.

He was sweating. Her cunt was tight and sucking his cock deeper insidem but he wanted her to just feel him now, hard and getting harder with need. She stared at him with question in her eyes. He kissed her.

“I tell you I love you and you turn away?” He thought to scold her gently.

“Um. . .I’m not. It’s just that. . .isn’t it. . don’t you prefer me that way?” She asked. “I only aim to please you, Jaime.” Her voice was small.

“And to repeat, only if it pleases you too. I’ve always wanted to look in your eyes when fucking you, Brienne. But you have to be half-dead from sleep for me to get you this way.” He kissed her again. “When I fuck you, I will look at you. Swear to me you that you’ll never deprive me of your eyes when I’m inside you. Your scars too. I love all of you.”

He leaned down and kissed her. She moaned and hugged him, her hips shyly thrusting against him. It was pure heaven being inside her like this. She was so fucking wet and warm. He was right to wait until towards the end of the war to fuck her. It was the crime of the lifetime to leave her wonderfully wet, greedy cunt.

“I’m not—I’m not sure about this. . .”she started to say, looking at her leg on his shoulder.

“Let’s just try. If you don’t like it, we never will again.” He assured her. The positioned opened her cunt some more. His cock was lodged deeper now. She sighed, the frown in her face softening into a half-smile. He smirked. “How do I feel inside you?”

He licked her lips as he spoke. She panted and he could feel her heart racing against him. “Big,” she blurted out. “But bigger this time. As if you’ve always been inside me.”

She sounded disbelieving but only because this position was new. He forced himself to pump slowly into her. She closed her eyes. _“Oh, Jaime.”_

“A crying shame you can’t run Tarth with me fucking you,” he said with sincere regret, his thrusts gradually speeding up. Gods. She had never been this wet. “I don’t like it when I’m not inside you for hours, Brienne.”

“Then don’t go,” she begged him passionately. She grunted softly as her hips sped up. He kissed her gratefully.

“Not unless you want me, wench. How much do you want me?” Resting his weight on his right arm, his left hand played with her clit. She squealed and close her eyes. A fresh surge of her honey wetted his cock and thighs.

“More than anything I’ve known,” she gasped. “Jaime. _Oh_. Fuck me.”

. He took a deep breath, swung out, until only his cockhead remained inside her. He looked in her eyes then slammed deep.

_“Jaime!”_

His name was a chain of wails from her lips as he fucked her. Her cunt was a deliciously cruel vise, tight and unyielding, but so, so wet. He fucked her roughly, because only in her arms could he be untamed but never a beast. She sought his lips, he licked her. Gasped against his mouth as he pulled and twisted her nipple while pounding into her.

Forget gentle. He would cover her in the gentlest of kisses but he will _fuck_ her. No slow easing of his cock in her cunt, no pretty words to fill her ears. Blunt language. His cock thick and hard, splitting her open. Every time she sat down tomorrow, he wanted her to remember getting fucked by him.

She got louder and more abandoned, more graphic with how she wanted him the deeper his cock pushed inside. He growled at her to not close her eyes. He meant it when he wanted to look in her eyes when fucking. He wanted to see her face, pink and sweating, eyes half-closed and lips parted to release her husky cries of pleasure and desire.

They shouted together, finding release at the same time. Jaime’s roar was fitting for the sigil of his house, Brienne’s cry that of a warrior who had won a long battle. He grunted against her shoulder, burying his face in the warm, fragrant arc as she scratched him, cunt milking his cock dry. He gasped as he poured the last of his come in her. He sighed slumped in her waiting arms.

This is where he belonged. With her.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, amazed with how fucking her was the most fulfilling thing. She sighed he helped her move her leg down. He stared at the mess on her thighs, his thighs. They were sticky and shone with each other’s juices. The sheet under Brienne’s hip was also noticeably slick. The servants should not mind providing them with fresh sheets again.

He moved to lie on his back. Brienne followed, turning to cuddle against him. He pulled her close to his chest. Each was content, for now.

 “I like looking in your eyes when you take me, Jaime,” she said, playing with his damp chest hairs.

He kissed her on the forehead. “Good. That makes two of us.”

She chuckled and cuddled closer. “Will we fuck that way again?”

“Do you think I want another way? You like what we did better, yes?”

“Yes. But. . .I like it from behind too, Jaime. Perhaps next time. . .being that we like looking at each other. . .” He looked at her curiously as she grappled for the words. She licked her lips and continued, “Maybe we can do it in front of a mirror.”

He didn’t mask his delight. “Are you saying you want to watch me fuck you?”

She blushed. “I wish to look upon your face.”

Jaime grinned and was pleased when she kissed him on the lips. To his surprise, her hand wrapped around his cock.

“Are you tired?” She asked, rubbing him gently. Her rough palm would have him hard and thrusting in mere seconds. 

He shook his head and grabbed her by the hair for a kiss. “ _No_. Get me hard and I’ll fuck you again, wench.”

“As you wish, Ser Jaime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, everyone! Apologies especially to dear catherineflowers for the delay in the update.
> 
> Two more chapters to go!


	7. Seventh Conquest: Her Secret Passage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dorne became part of the Seven Kingdoms because the Targaryens realized it can not be conquered like the others, not by deploying the same weapons and counter-attacks. You will have to see Brienne as your Dorne. That she is not like any woman. The way to her heart is to know what makes her so and love her for it. To love her like no one else you’ve loved before. Never forget that and she will be yours.”
> 
> Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have 'Ass' as the title of the chapter. 
> 
> So we have my amateurish attempt at a creative title. Oh, dear. Please forgive me.

 

Evenfall Hall would not have any sleep tonight. Servants and soldiers have become used to Lady Brienne’s wails and squeals since bringing home her Kingslayer. But Ser Jaime’s rough cries were louder than the crashing waves. At one point, the loyal staff and guards feared that the ancient seat of House Tarth would literally crumble from the force of their shouts.

Jaime growled Brienne’s name as her cunt drained the last drop from his cock, his eyes widening briefly from the strength of her squeeze. His hips jerked, his body trembling before he looked down at his wife’s red, sweaty face. He relaxed his grip on one of her ankles and she loosened her hold on the other. She took his stump from between her tits, pulled it to her lips for a kiss. He gathered her in his arms and rested his head on her damp shoulder. Her legs fell hard on the bed with a thump.

Her breath drifted past his cheek. “I don’t know what legs are anymore.”

He smiled, sighed and turned so he could lay down beside her. His softened cock slipped out of her and she mewled, pouting briefly before tucking her head on the crook between his neck and shoulder. His hand settled on the wet junction between her thighs. _Seven Hells._ _She’s pouring_. Testing a theory, he turned his palm and pushed four fingers in her cunt, his thumb flattening on her clit. He swallowed her cry with a kiss.

Her cunt was the softest, most giving silken pouch as it swallowed his fingers. He knew she was quite sore but knew she wanted _this._ Fuck, but he could probably push his fist inside her, but the idea wasn’t really to his taste. He liked her tight. Liked that her cunt made his cock work hard.

She shook and groaned through their kiss, her hand catching him around the wrist but he refused to let her cunt go. She was so fucking wet. A downpour of honeyed woman. Slowly, she relaxed against him, her tired legs parting to take his fingers deeper. He grunted when her big teeth clamped on his lower lip as she came softly. He tasted blood and she licked it clean off his lip.

His fingers remained in he warm passage of her cunt. She lazily brushed her lips against his mouth. Jaime mourned that he couldn’t get hard as quickly as he had been doing the last couple of hours. But she could barely keep her eyes open and was just fighting off sleep. She was insatiable.

He shouldn’t be so lucky.

“Sleep,” he whispered.

She frowned and shook her head. “You’ll stop fucking me.”

“I’m only human, wench. I’m not a god who can fuck you every minute, sadly.”

“Half a god,” she murmured, closing her eyes. A few seconds later, she began to snore.

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, reluctantly pulled his fingers out of her swollen cunt. Carefully, he left the bed.

He threw a couple of logs in the fireplace until the fire grew again. He helped himself to cool water, filling up the goblet and placing it on Brienne’s nightstand so it was ready.

She was sprawled on her stomach now, arms and legs spread wide. Her body relaxed in sleep, she looked soft, as if created with the softest lines and angles. He was pleased to see her thighs sticky and wet with his semen. Would he leak out of her the whole day tomorrow? Would her breeches be soaked? Perhaps he could convince her to forego a wash before seeing her council. Brienne’s cunt smelled and tasted the absolute best after a fucking.

He was ready to sleep. Needed it. But to his surprise, his cock was stirring again. Out of all the lessons Tyrion had imparted to him earlier, there was one that had shocked yet also appealed to him. Tyrion confessed he had never done it. The act was considered quite dirty and most improper but yes, men did it to women too, he assured Jaime.

Jaime had never done it with Cersei. He’d heard of it but never thought to try it with her. Cersei found pleasure with his cock but she only spread her legs as a mean to an end. Besides, she would hate the act. It left her completely powerless.

Tarth was Tyrion’s last stop before heading back to King’s Landing. As Hand of the King, he was touring the Seven Kingdoms, including the Principality of Dorne. Dorne was Seven Hells but he got a gift for his brother.

Turning away from the map table, he passed a small, silver pot of a ‘miracle balm’ to Jaime’s hand. He thought to feign an illness tonight so the Evenstar would be free to take his brother’s cock all night. “You can use it when fucking your wife’s cunt too, but it’s more for the other end.”

He sat on the bed, opened the drawer of his nightstand to look at the pot. Dornishmen, depending on one’s perspective, either peopled the most open society or were simply animals. Many in the Seven Kingdoms felt that Dorne shouldn’t be part of it, but others pushed that the diversity so evident in the land of sands was what the rest of Westeros needed.

While the Westerlands, the North, the Riverlands, the Vale, fell into Targaryen hands like pieces in a game, Dorne held its independence tightly, except for four years. It was only through marriage that it became part of the Seven Kingdoms. Tyrion remarked that what had happened was not technically a conquest. It could rather be likened to a woman whose space and life was honored rather than owned, invited rather than conquered, her life woven in the fabric of society through untraditional means.

_“The blood of the Dornish run hot. Can rival the fire of dragaons,” he told Jaime, dropping the silver pot on his palm before glancing at the map marker. It stood right on the subject of their discussion. “It is  fire that must be accepted rather than tamed, understood and appreciated but with great caution. A failure can destroy even the strongest ties—that’s how tenuous it with Dorne. Thus, with Brienne—”_

_“You want me to seek also another way,”  Jaime finished._

_“Yes. But you should also give her a taste of something she never had before---” Tyrion suddenly paused and gave him a look._

_“What?”_

_“I know Brienne was no maiden when you married her. The entire camp knew. But it was winter. There was nothing she could use to prevent a child. Did you fuck her in the ass?”_

_“What?” Jaime roared. “That’s my wife you’re talking about!”_

_“All the more why you should fuck her in the ass. Don’t tell me you never did it to Cersei?”_

_“No. Do you think me an animal?” He demanded._

_Tyrion rolled his eyes. “You never took our sister like that?”_

_“That’s buggery and punishable. You know that.”_

_“Between men but it hasn’t stopped men from doing it with women. Or some women too, with the right toy.”_

_Jaime was shocked. He knew a woman’s mouth could be fucked, aside from her cunt. But her ass? Tyrion, patient despite his brother’s outburst, continued._

_“Dorne became part of the Seven Kingdoms because the Targaryens realized it can not be conquered like the others, not by deploying the same weapons and counter-attacks. You will have to see Brienne as your Dorne. That she is not like any woman. The way to her heart is to know what makes her so and love her for it. To love her like no one else you’ve loved before. Never forget that and she will be yours.”_

_“She is mine. But I want her to know. I need—she has to know how much she is wanted, Tyrion. She must know there is nothing to fear in asking me to give what she wants.”_

_“Then she is your Dorne.”_

Jaime shut the drawer quietly and stretched out beside Brienne. Though asleep, she sensed him return, sighing and shifting to lie on her side, moving closer. He pulled the blankets over them. “Jaime,” she murmured, probably dreaming of him. Her arm circled his waist.

He watched her sleep. A lock of straw-blond hair feathered her cheek. He tucked it behind her ear.

“I love you.”  


_******_  
  
Sleep claimed the lovers but relinquished him sooner than expected. Jaime was awakened with airy brushes of Brienne’s up and down his chest, a warm tongue tracing the lines of his old scars. He watched her pale head move over him, kissing him tenderly on the belly button, nuzzling the line of hair leading to his cock. She must know how hard he was—he kept bumping against her shoulder, then her ear.

But she did not take him in her mouth. Instead, she went to kiss his stump. Kiss-swollen lips as red as cherries warmed it, as if she knew it had begun to ache slightly, from the chill in the room. She kissed it as she would his mouth, tenderly, heatedly. Then she trailed more kisses up his arm, deepening at the hollow of his elbow before the fingers of his remaining hand combed through her hair, pulled her to his waiting mouth.

He grunted softly from the press of her heavy body on him. Her tits were warm, the insides of her thighs sticky from the dried branches of his semen. She slanted her mouth over him, just rubbing her lips to his. He palmed her nape, her back, finding her cool yet slowly getting warm.

 He licked her back when she thrust her tongue shyly in his mouth. As her moan shook against him, he caressed the side of her waist, her thigh, before coasting over the slight rise of her ass.

She touched him on the cheek, humming through their kiss upon discovering the prickly shadow he will have to shave in a few hours. As their tongues continued to spar and wet, lapping sounds and groans filled the quiet of their chambers, his right arm lowered to her ass.

Without any attachment, it was useless. It can not hold, can not bear weight, can hardly push. But it could nudge, ever so slightly. Could urge, press. With hand and stump he encouraged his wife to spread her legs side, so her slit would widen and her clitoris would rub against his cock.

She nibbled him on the lips. “Jaime.”

He kept kissing her, tugging at her upper lip between his teeth, then the lower one, swiping his tongue around it. He pulled her left thigh higher. She was getting wet but so, so warm, like a summer drizzle.

He felt for her cunt then began finger-fucking her in earnest.

She gasped, stopping their kiss. “Oh, gods.”

“Just me, wench,” he teased, raising his head to indicate he would like to continue their kiss. She grunted, closing her eyes briefly before crushing his mouth under hers. Her hips began to thrust against his finger.

Fuck but she was so, so heavenly soft after fucking. He would love to have her come around his finger but he wanted something else from her. His cock was leaking, demanding to return to the honeyed trap of her cunt but not yet. Still kissing her, he pulled his finger out of her cunt then eased it towards her ass.

Brienne immediately stiffened, ass clenching around his finger to stop its entry. “J-Jaime?”

“Do you trust me?” He asked her through gritted teeth. His cock really wanted to be inside her.

She looked unsure but nodded her head quickly.

“We won’t do it again if you don’t like it,” he promised. “Now. Kiss me again. Don’t stop.”

She fell over him again, mouth open and tongue quickly plunging past his lips. Feeling her relax against him he continued pushing his finger inside her. She stiffened again but didn’t stop kissing him.

She felt. . .different. Of course, it was a different part of her. She was hotter than the Dornish sun, tighter than anything he had been inside of. Tyrion cautioned there would be discomfort from her if Jaime wasn’t too careful. He liked to finger-fuck her cunt fast and roughly, but not in this part of her anatomy. It required patience. A lot of it.

His finger pushed gently in and out of her ass, making her stiffen for a while until she melted against him. Relieved that she was must be liking it, he kissed her hard on he mouth. He hissed at her to move, to fuck her self on his cock. It was an order that pleased her because she not only slanted a smile at him, she also took his cock and enveloped her cunt quickly around it.

“Relax,” he whispered, biting her ear gently. “Be still. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Yes, Jaime,” she sighed.

His stump and Brienne’s discipline as a soldier kept her still while he thrust his cock into her cunt and his finger in her ass. She panted against his mouth, closed her eyes. His name was a husky chant from her swollen lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m close. Damn it.”

Brienne kissed him. “Take me with you.”

He nodded then threw her down on the bed so she was on his back. Before she could take her next breath, he was inside her cunt, fucking her fast, desperately. He sucked one of her cold-bitten nipples before returning to her eager mouth.

It didn’t take long for either of them to come. Brienne was first, tearing her mouth away from his kiss to scream. He followed a second later, crying out her name as he fountained up inside the heavenly clutch of her cunt.

 

*****

Leaning against the tufted headboard, Jaime smirked at Brienne’s blush. He had insisted that she straddle his lap. His cock was spent for now, content to brush against her wet pubic hairs as she breathed.

In the battlefield, Brienne was breathtaking. Her sapphire eyes gleaming with anticipation, her full lips curled in a sneer as she stood poised to fight. When they began sleeping with each other and he managed to see her in the dying candlelight, he thought she looked quite beautiful. Love made the ugliest beautiful, he had supposed. But was she really ugly in the first place? _Perhaps the beauty we know is a mask for something that festers. It is certainly what I've known for most of my life._

Brienne would never turn heads, only his. Her scars took her out of the running for anyone’s Queen of Love and Beauty, unless he participated in the joust. Yet each day with her since riding to Winterfell alone, Jaime discovered something beautiful. Her hands, too rough for needle and thread yet perfectly honed for the sword and taking his cock. Her neck, thick and strong, yet unbelievably soft. Her feet. Her cunt. Her tits. Too small to make any man's mouth water. But he was not any man. 

Her tits matched the color of her blush. The room was getting chilly because the flames were beginning to die. He reached up and pinched one of her nipples, then pulled it roughly, jerking her forward. She yelped and he quickly slammed his mouth onto her, cutting off her cry. What he would give for two hands to play with her nipples, right now. As he continued with the rough play, he felt the familiar slide of her moisture leaking from her cunt. It was thrilling that his wench liked a bit of pain with fucking.

He dragged his lips away from her to bend his head toward her tits. He soothed the tight red berry of the nipple he was playing with, licking and sucking it gently. He bestowed the same treatment on the other before covering her scarred neck with kisses next. Gradually, he pulled away from her, but returned his hand to her tits to continue fondling them. His stump rested under his head.

“Jaime?” She asked hesitantly.

“Hmm, wench?” Will he get tired of her blushes? _No._

“You—why did you do that?” She bit her lip. “Do you remember? Your finger. . .it was. . .it was. . .” Her eyes pleaded with him, as she was clearly embarrassed with what she must say unless he stepped in.

“Why did I fuck your ass with my finger?” He drawled.

She gave him a look. “Don’t you mock me.”

“I’m not. I _did_ fuck your ass with my finger,” He pulled at her nipple carefully, just to see arch her back. Gods _. So fucking beautiful_. “Did I hurt you?”

She looked thoughtful. “No, not really,” she said slowly. “There was some discomfort at first but it was more that you surprised me. I mean. . .I didn’t know it could be done.”

“It was something I felt. . .I wanted to do, at the moment,” he confessed, cupping the soft swell of her tits. They were getting warmer. Her cunt too, he was pleased to discover. He hoped she did not slip off his lap. “Have you felt something like that, wanting to do something in the heat of the moment?”

Lines formed between her eyebrows as she gave it serious thought. Prodding her, he continued, “For example. You know fight patterns, right?” She nodded. “How to move your feet, how to lunge, when to attack. Those are guidelines. But when you’re in the thick of a fight, you don’t wait to lunge. Your sparring sessions and the skill you’ve acquired are to only guide you. In a real fight, it’s what you do with what you’ve learned, and done well, that keeps you alive. But. . .it’s not all instinct.” He sighed, seeing her frown even more. “I worry I’m not explaining this well. I am a slow learner at all,” he whispered. His eyes fell on her nipple as he thumbed it before staring back at her face. “The stupidest Lannister.”

 _“No. You are not.”_ Brienne protested vehemently. She shook her head then was a blur of movement. Jaime grunted as she landed hard on his chest, her lips quickly smothering the rest of his noise. He crushed her against him, kissing her back with the hunger of the beast of his house.

“It’s like this, isn’t it?” she gasped suddenly, pushing herself up by flattening her palms on his chest. She was panting as she gazed at him anxiously. Waiting for his confirmation. His approval.

Her pale hair fell over her face, surrounded her like a halo. “Good fucking entails kissing and touching. Kisses and touches you both like,” she said in a rush, bringing his stump between her tits. Her nipples were pink points as the rough surface touched them. “And then when this. . . _need_ comes. It’s so overwhelming it could choke you unless you satisfy it.” She kissed the scars passionately. Her eyes were dark with lust. “Is that what you mean, Ser Jaime?”

“Ser Jaime,” he groaned, bringing her back down for a kiss. “I’ve had my cock in you and still you call me that?” He buried his lips on her neck as she covered his face with more kisses.

“It makes you hard,” she muttered, making him chuckle. She smiled and lay on top of him. He would struggle for breath in a little while, but he liked how she felt, like this. “Did I get what you mean, _Ser Jaime?_ ” She licked her lips suggestively.

“I was right to call you wench,” he said softly. “And yes.”

She looked relieved. He put his stump against her cheek. She leaned against it.

He really wished for his hand.

“Did I hurt you earlier? Be honest, Brienne.”

“No, you didn’t. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

As she spoke, he trailed his hand toward her buttocks. Her breathing sharpened as he lightly scratched the underside of the curves there. Slowly, his fingers crawled toward the sensitive crease.

“Jaime?” She groaned hotly.

“Did you like it?” He asked, just running his fingers back and forth along the heated line. He searched the astonishing blue of her eyes, alert for a flicker of growing desire or a sharpness that hinted at uncertainty. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, kissing her on the cheek firmly but his hand on her gentle. “Ask me and I will.”

She shook her head. “Don’t.” Her voice was tight. “Jaime. Don’t. _Please._ Don’t stop.”

He kissed her quickly in gratitude then said, “Wench, I need to get something from the drawer first.”

“Alright.” Brienne moved off him, getting up on her knees. Jaime turned to get the silver pot from the drawer. “What is it?”

“You don’t get wet back there,” he explained, removing the lid and scooping up a generous dollop with his fingers. “If I fuck you and you’re dry, you _will_ get hurt.”

“You didn’t use that earlier,” she said slowly, watching him return the lid on the pot.

“No. Do you forget, wench?” He said playfully, gathering her in his arms. “I fucked your cunt first before your ass. I bet if your cunt gets wet while you’re in the sea the level would rise. Westeros will be underwater in no time.”

She laughed and slapped him on the chest. “It wouldn’t! You’re ridiculous.”

They wrestled playfully with each other. Jaime roared with laughter as she threw him down with no effort at all. As she laughed, he took advantage and flipped her on the mattress. She shrieked, tried getting him off her but she was laughing too much. They both were. The rocking motions of their bodies led them to rubbing against each other. Soon, they were tangling tongues.

 Jaime pressed her firmly on the bed, pinning her flat on her back with his kisses. He moved his left arm down on her body then brushed against her sticky cunt curls. Distracted with their kiss, she seemed to have forgotten what her husband intended to do until she felt a familiar pressure in her ass. She squirmed.

“Um, Jaime. It’s. . .” He was pleased as her hips moved, wanting to take him deeper. “I---I need.”

“Get the pillow, wench,” he instructed, nodding at the overstuffed pillow next to her. She gave it to him and Jaime slipped it under her hips. “Fold your legs,” he said. She obeyed.

His tongue was in her mouth as his finger returned inside her ass. She clutched at his arms, moaning against his lips. The elevated angle of her hips permitted his fingers to push deeper in the stubborn passage of her ass, despite the special substance. His thumb played with her clit, putting her in the limbo of relaxation and anticipation.

Still, he told her, “Tell me to stop. I don’t want you hurt. I love you so much.”

_“Don’t stop.”_

He touched and kissed her, his thumb and fingers on her clit and on the unyielding passage of her ass gentle but firm, determined to make her come undone. She kissed him back hungrily, giving herself up to him without question. His cock kept poking at her stomach, demanding to be inside her cunt again. He didn’t want to fuck her there, now. Wanted to just touch her. Teach her of another pleasure she could ask of him.

She came with a soft cry, throwing her head back and her spine curving in a sudden, sharp arc. His lips hovered just above hers, her pants causing her own to brush against him as his fingers remained in her through her body’s rough dance.

He lowered her on the bed, wanting to just kiss her all over. She regarded him with half-closed eyes.

“Does this mean your cock can fuck me there too, Ser Jaime?”

 

*****  
Brienne wanted no rest. Her growl convinced him.

Jaime grinned and kissed the back of her shoulder. Through the looking glass, he saw her eyes were bright too, as if she could taste the sweetness of victory already.

His resistance to fucking Brienne in the ass was not only because he had never done it before, but the position deprived him of her face, her eyes. Taking note of one of her musings, he took a small looking glass from the dresser, improvised by plopping it on top of their pillows and a book. She turned a deep, vivid red.

“You wish to look upon my face,” he reminded her. “And I want your eyes on me when I fuck you.”

The mirror was small, just enough to give a reflection of Brienne’s shoulders and face, and his head when close enough. He would fuck her against the vanity, where the mirror came from, but Tyrion cautioned that the position was not ideal for the fucking.

Jaime smeared more of the balm on his cock, dipped his fingers back in the pot and pushed them in the pink puckered hole in Brienne’s ass. She had whimpered, fisting the sheets as she thrust back at him. He watched his fingers disappear in her pink crevice, still the tightest and hottest thing he knew but now so slick. Then he searched for her face in the mirror and was not disappointed.

He fucked her just until he felt her approach the edge of another release. He would love to watch her fall apart again but he wanted it with his cock in her ass.

Now, Brienne was panting under him. Embers of the dying fire weakly battled the cold that had settled in the room. Yet Jaime and Brienne’s bodies gleamed with sweat and continued to pour. He licked the droplets decorating her back. They shone like the clearest diamonds.

She moaned as his lips and tongue touched her back. When he straightened up, he saw she saw staring at the glass, waiting for him. He kissed her on the cheek.

“I promise pleasure, Brienne,” he said, looking in her eyes in the mirror. “I also plead for patience. And forgiveness for possibly hurting you.”

She looked moved by his words. “Jaime, I love you.”

He smiled at her and took his cock.

She purred and thrust her ass at him invitingly. The pale curves were covered in sweat too. A shame he could taste her now. He wondered how she would taste, if she would be as sweet as promised by the pink of her hole.

He rubbed himself then aimed his cock toward her ass. He took his time, rubbing his cockhead on the puckered, pouting entrance. She sighed and moved gently against him, clearly wanting him inside her, _now._ Steadying himself on his useless right arm by putting it on her back, he cradled his cock in hand and slowly pushed inside.

Brienne’s groan was surprisingly filthy. _“Jaime.”_

Seven bloody hells but she was burning him alive, Jaime discovered, eyes widening at the discovery. She was hotter than wildfyre and dragonfyre, unforgivingly and deliciously tight. He watched his cock disappear then appear, and once again get swallowed up by the greedy passage. She clutched at the pillows again, thrust her hips higher at him. Jaime growled as he slid an inch deeper.

_“Gods damn it, Brienne.”_

Brienne, watching him through the mirror, moaned, “Oh, Jaime. Jaime. Gods. I never— _ooh_.”

He was sweating from the control his body screamed for: the merciless, rough fuck of his cock in Brienne. If his cock were in her cunt, he would. Her cunt was greedy and refused to let him go. Her ass was completely different, once he got past the barrier.

“Jaime, I can feel you,” Brienne whispered, awed.

“You should,” he grunted, fucking her gently. He sought her face in he mirror and smiled. “I’m inside you, after all.”

Did she laugh? He wasn’t sure. But when he caught a glimpse of her sapphire eyes in the mirror, they were gleaming.

And she was fucking glowing.

Fuck his discipline. He wanted the wench. His wife. _Brienne._ She saw his jaw tighten. Reading what he intended to do, she braced herself even more firmly on the bed.

_“Please, Jaime.”_

No encouragement could be sweeter, or sexier. Jaime pounded into her, his grunts blending with her sharp, startled wails. His thighs smacked hard against her ass, possibly bruising her. He didn’t care. He knew she wouldn’t either, her warrior’s body used to pain.

Sweat poured down the middle of her back and he leaned down to lick and suck it, his cock remaining so still in her ass that Brienne begged for him to go on. His lone hand on her hip, he resumed his thrusts, battering into this last stronghold of her vulnerability.

He could feel it, her. One by one, the last of her resistance crumbled in response to his thrusts. He fucked her harder, more, faster, encouraged by her screams of his name, of her ass pushing against him.

_Indeed, Evenfall Hall would find no rest tonight._

Feeling himself on the verge, Jaime snuck his hand below Brienne’s body, seeking her clit. She squawked as his fingers flicked it, driving her to shriek his name louder, and in busts, her exhale after every breath. His knees were beginning to kill him but he was not going to fucking stop. No. It would be an insult that was his wife’s body.

He would fuck her as she deserved. With love. With passion.

Brienne screamed and thrashed under him, knocking the mirror away from the pillows and having it tumble on the bed. Before he could protest about her sapphire eyes being taken away, he felt the familiar tightening that promised the hardest release he’s had in his life.

He yelled too, the volume of his voice he swore making the rustic, steel chandelier over the their bed shudder. He relished the pull of release, pouring his semen inside Brienne’s ass. She squeezed around him, _greedy wench that she is._ Two more thrusts and he slumped heavily on her back. She panted under him.

“Are you alright?” He asked. He couldn’t see her slumped over her back like this. Both of them groaned in protest as he pulled out of her. Lying down beside her, he pushed the damp lock of her hair away from her cheek. “Tell me the truth.”

Brienne was flushed from their exertions. With her bright eyes and the pink of her face, she was beautiful. Scars and all. He wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Her pants were slow to resume its normal patter, a calm puff of air toward Jaime’s lips, an almost-kiss. He kissed her on the neck, hoping she didn’t hate him.

“Tell me,” he urged.

She winked at him. “We need a bigger mirror.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, guys!
> 
> There's only one more chapter left. Catherineflowers teased me that there might be a riot if there's no mirror in this chapter, so we have it. I aim to please, after all! :-) But we will see more mirror sex in the last chapter. Among other things!
> 
> ****  
> "stupidest Lannister"--totally ripped from catherineflowers' fic!


	8. Life in the Sapphire Isle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smirked as she stared at the mirror first in confusion, but only for a moment. Understanding dawned on her flushed face as she took in the gold frame carved with sunbursts and roaring lions before staring back at her reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, erm, mirrors!
> 
> *****  
> Shoutout to SeleneU for giving me an idea on the ending.

 

Embers greeted Brienne when she opened her eyes. She stared drowsily at the faint golds of the dying fire for a few moments before reluctantly sitting up.

She shivered as the blanket slid down to her waist. Hugging herself, she got up, hurriedly pulling the windows closed so that none of the chilly breeze from the sea would enter the room. It was nice to sleep with surrounded by the warmth of the fire and smelling the sweet salt of the sea but come morning, it would get so cold that they could see the clear white puff of their breaths. She was grateful that the thick, lush carpets kept her feet warm but slighting another fire was the best option.

Carefully, she placed more logs in the fireplace then set about making the fire. She watched the orange flicker hungrily consuming the wood, and was quick to grow. She stretched her hands towards it then rubbed them to her face, sighing as the warmth melted away the stiff, cool feel of her cheeks. Then she got up to return to Jaime’s side.

He was still fast asleep on the bed, lying on his side and his arm flung on the space she had just vacated. She paused in her stride, watching him breathe peacefully. Though she knew she should sneak back because it upset him to find her gone, even for just a while, she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him freely.

He had the muscled, scarred body of a warrior, but without the bulk. He was lean and moved swiftly—and often thought too fast for his own good. She admired the long line of his back, at the firm rise of flesh that indicated his ass, unfortunately obscured by the blanket. His golden hair fanned the pillow. On his cheeks, the dark stubble he would shave later. Her lion at rest, she thought, feeling a warmth that did not come from the fireplace behind her. _Tired from loving her so well._

He told her he would show her other ways she could find pleasure, and kept telling her through their fucking and in between feeding each other she only had to tell him what she wanted. It was just like her husband to try exceeding what was expected him. She was not very surprised, then, but was rather touched he would wish her to not just color within the lines.

One or two things from last night scandalized her at first. The love from Jaime’s eyes and his tender, passionate kisses driving her doubts away, replacing them with only wondrous desire. He had urged her, filling her ears with the hottest whispers in between passionate presses of his lips on her scarred skin, hand and stump caressing her non-stop. She was too overwhelmed from the many gifts he had given with his body, but knew he meant the vow to always please her. Before she fell asleep, in her mind was one thing she thought to ask. Her dream gave another.

She was more careful when returning to bed. She did not want to wake Jaime and her sore body appreciated it. She lay down beside him, smoothing away his golden hair from his forehead.

She was told men went to whores so they would know how to please their wives. But Jaime never went to one. There was only Cersei in his heart. . .before her. The knowledge his heart was now hers was still so very new, precious and something she feared to handle too roughly, She took care to be deserving of his love, knowing that his sister would cast a shadow over them for the many years they would have together. If she were another woman, she would resent the ghost of Cersei Lannister, and eventually Jaime. She couldn’t do that to him, to them.

It was the hardest thing, to love and accept a man who had loved someone forbidden. Who would always love her, but differently, now. Brienne never had reason to doubt Jaime’s word. He loved her, she was the pulse of his existence. There was no reason to question him, nor why she could not love him so in return.

When Jaime fucked her for the first time, she had been stunned. The pain, she could barely remember, it was so slight and felt more like a crick. It was the surprise of having him inside her and feeling herself as whole and as complete she never thought possible. That moment Jaime settled deep inside her, she found the answer in every question. The way he felt, how his emerald eyes never left her ugly face, the way he kissed and touched her. When he whispered how he loved her.

Not a day went by without hearing those words.

She was loved. After a lifetime of pain, she was loved. By the man Westeros believed was incapable of love.

She suddenly blinked rapidly, feeling her eyes drowned in salt. She brushed her tears away, not wanting Jaime to discover her like this. He would not make her feel small for crying. In fact, he would take her in his arms and rock her until she calmed. But these were tears of immense happiness. Maybe when she was more used to the knowledge that his love was a truth as undeniable as the sun and the moon, she would cease this.

He slept on, blessedly unaware. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. A soft, barely-discernible hum escaped him, his head turning to her. He was probably dreaming. Of her.

_He really loves me._

A long time ago, she would kill these thoughts by taking her sword and finding the nearest tree to spar with, or Podrick, now a knight of the Kingsguard. She was too ugly and too tall to be a woman, too awkward and too mannish to be any close to becoming a proper lady. Too much of everything, none good. She was not for songs, never for love. It was only Jaime who had come to respect the strength and skill she offered as a knight. The only man to see her as a woman, though it infuriated her before that he’d rather call her wench. Now it was an endearment.

She kissed him again. Jaime continued to sleep.

For a man as hardened as he was, he wanted only the simplest things: to love and be loved in return, to give her more than satisfaction in bed and their life. Her cheeks burned again, for she could not stop thinking about last night. It was impossible—her lips were still tingling from their countless kisses, her neck was covered in pale purple marks, and she was sure she was even limping a little.

He sighed, turning to her. It was still cold in their chambers, despite the fire.

She pulled the blankets over them then wrapped her husband in her arms. She kissed him on the forehead.

“I love you, Jaime Lannister.”

 

Two years later

 

Jaime stood back and gave a curt nod at the carpenters. “That will do. I believe it’s the perfect height.” He turned to their employer. “See to it that the mirrors are installed in half an hour. I promise to double your fee, and will add as three flagons of the finest Dornish wine.”

“You’re very generous, my lord,” he was told. “But there is no need for such gifts. We are happy to make anything for the Evenstar on her nameday.”

“And I am happy that your men have created such beautiful pieces, so allow me to share my gold,” Jaime pressed, patting him on the shoulder with his hand.

“I have to say, my lord, that this is quite unusual from her known preference.”

Jaime couldn’t help but smirk. “My wife has diverse tastes. Don’t worry, she still much prefers the sword.”

He left the carpenters alone, overseen by Caron and one of Brienne’s handmaidens to ensure there was no damage to the walls or anywhere in the chambers during the installation. As the sound of hammering grew distant, Jaime poured himself some wine, stopping before the liquid reached half of the goblet. He took a small sip and returned to watch the mirrors being put up.

He was planning to wake her with a wet kiss on her cunt, so she would welcome her nameday seeing sparks and have stars in her eyes. Instead, she had awakened earlier, waking him up with her mouth warm around his cock. He was not one to turn down this gift, and thus surrendered to her eager kisses and licks. He buried his cries of pleasure in the pillow because their son was still sleeping  in his cradle.

As the carpenters neared completing their task, Jaime ordered Caron to fetch the Evenstar. “She would be with her council now, and nursing our son,” he said.

Because Brienne was the first female Evenstar in the history of Tarth, she was taking the opportunity to do things differently, with much support from Jaime.

When she got pregnant, the elders hastened to suggest that maybe the Lady Brienne could assign one of them to act in her name, since she would be in a very delicate condition. Brienne was far from pleased and Jaime had to bite his tongue--he had sat with her council that day. Sometimes, it was frustrating that he was regarded merely as a husband and an informal adviser. But being so meant he had her ear. He reminded her that she was the Evenstar, and could make changes as she wished. One of them was showing her council that being pregnant did not equate to being ill.

She took his advice and though there was grumbling from the old men, they later came to her side. They saw that a pregnant woman should not be confined to bed, not when she was as strong as Brienne. She was so strong and very stubborn about proving the men wrong still that she was at the ports of Tarth, personally inspecting the arrival of fresh, powerful Dornish steeds when water suddenly spilled down her breeches.

Jaime was fortunately nearby, discussing the new armor for the soldiers of Tarth when he got word that the Evenstar would be giving birth right on the docks if she was not moved soon.

Rather than wait for his squire and men, he threw gold at a hired hansom, kicked its driver out of the way and stormed for the ports. It took three men to put his wife inside. Jaime never stopped whipping at the horse to take them to Evenfall Hall as quickly as possible.

For the next fourteen hours, Jaime remained at Brienne’s side. He gave her handmaidens, the midwife and the maester dangerous looks when they urged him to leave his wife in their hands. Brienne cried for him to stay, and stay he did. He kissed her on the forehead or the lips when the pains eased, wiped the sweat from her face as she screamed through her contractions.

She wailed she was exhausted and didn’t want to do it anymore. Jaime could only kiss her and remind her he loved her. He hated being helpless at the pains seizing her body. It felt like another war, and he could only watch his wife fight alone.

Brienne’s screams were the worst he had heard, until they softened to pitched pants. Jaime hardly paid attention to the squirming, pink thing the midwife took from between his wife’s thighs. He wiped the sweat from her forehead. He was looking in her eyes when sharp wails suddenly ripped through the new quiet in the air.

The baby was a healthy, plump boy. Brienne, who could barely keep her eyes open, was strength renewed as she held out her arms for her screaming son. Jaime was too dumfounded to speak, could only stare as she cooed and kissed the infant. He stared at her large hands gently cradling the soft, squirming body. Then she called on him, softly. He shifted his gaze to her beautiful, bloodshot eyes. She smiled and offered the baby to him.

It brought Jaime back to the moment. The midwife was at his side, instructing him how to shape his arms and to just make sure the head and neck were supported. His refusal was at his throat. If he hurt the baby, Brienne would never forgive him. He would throw himself upon a sword. But Brienne was gently insistent.

The moment he stared back at another pair of brilliant, emerald eyes, a love of unbelievable magnitude poured out of him. He chuckled and looked at Brienne, who was leaning against the pillows, a tired but happy expression on her face.

While she recuperated, she charged him with leading her council. He was more used to leading armies and still thought like a soldier. But the lessons in lordship and leadership Tywin and his old maester had drilled into him came back. He made firm decisions, prioritizing the benefits for Tarth. He still sought her for advice, making sure that he made the same choices she would. They had trusted each other in the worst of wars. There was no reason to stop now that they were married.

As soon as Brienne was better, he was quick to return to his duties. Most men would think it beneath them to oversee a household but Evenfall Hall was a castle, and employed nearly everyone in the island. He made sure sacks overflowed with grain. Oversaw that the Sapphire Isle always yielded the fattest fish for the fishermen to sell. He was in charge of household accounts, keeping a tight watch over the gold. Tarth was small compared to the rest of the Seven Kingdoms but its standing army, under Jaime’s guidance, had the strongest, most formidable fighters. He also sat and heard domestic disputes.

Four months after giving birth, he and Brienne were in the tub with Darryn, their son. Darryn let out squeals of delight as Jaime gently splashed water at him, while Brienne kept his head above the water.

“Jaime?” She suddenly asked, raising Darryn from the water then slowly plunging him back in. Darryn gave Jaime a gummy smile and he smiled back.

“Yes, my love?” He made funny face at his son, who turned pink and giggled.

“I thought, before telling this to the council to run this by your first,” she said carefully. Hearing the seriousness in her tone, he looked at her curiously.

“What is it?”

“I hope,” she took a deep breath. “That is, I hope to bring you as a member of my council. You are not of Tarth but that’s your advantage. You’ve seen beyond the Isle, and it’s contributed to what you know.”

He was glad to be sitting and surrounded by the warm water of the bath. Taking note of the surprise on his face, Brienne then added that she will not bring it up with the council unless he was alright with it. She would give him time to decide.

Jaime only took a moment to know what he really wanted.  He watched as Brienne slowly let go of Darryn, letting the baby float toward him. He caught him, cradling him carefully to support his head with his hand. He grinned at the emerald eyes staring up at him before turning back to Brienne.

“I’m happy to be adviser to the Evenstar, and your husband, Brienne, ” he said. “My place is right here, like this.”

 

*****  
Brienne’s nameday was still two days away but Jaime thought to give his gift early. Namedays were exhausting for the Evenstar, as she had discovered. The feast lasted all day, with the people of Tarth stuffing themselves with sweets and meats, getting drunk on fine wine. It also meant spending half the day at the Great Hall receiving gifts from the people.

She did not think that just because it was her nameday life in Tarth would stop. Her council was already urging her to save discussions after the day, subtly reminding her that she must oversee the preparations herself. She cut the meeting at the Great Hall by half and went to the council room to hear the elders of Tarth. Jaime knew she had their son with her. Brienne refused to have a wet nurse feed him, or have him in the hands of her handmaidens for too long. Jaime quite agreed with her decision.

One had to be a parent to know the overwhelming need to always protect a child. Jaime had not been able to do it for any of his children with Cersei. But, she never even let him hold them. He loved them in ways only Cersei had unknowingly allowed. Except for Joffrey, he took their deaths hard.

Now that he had a son he could freely call and love as his own, he knew for sure that the safest place for him was either in Brienne’s arms or his. Handmaidens were either too enamored of their beautiful charge, or it could be the exact opposite—neither which Jaime and Brienne were willing to risk at all. He also understood Brienne’s need to have their child with her at most times. It wasn’t because being away from him unsettled her. The war took too many lives, many which should have been spared. That they had survived at all and blessed with a beautiful, healthy child was a miracle.

So, with their son, she was protective and took him with her whenever possible. The elders had protested when Brienne not only brought Darryn to their meetings but also nursed him. Conservatives accused her of indecency, influenced no doubt by her husband. Taking a page off the Lannister handbook in dealing with something unpleasant, but with her own take, Brienne recommended those voices in positions that put them far away from Tarth, and in effect, banished. Jaime applauded her decision. Cersei would have called for their heads. He was proud that Brienne’s diplomatic approach was mainly due to him.

Jaime would take care of Darryn when it was impossible for Brienne to bring him with her. On his rounds around Tarth, he introduced his son to the farmers, whose wives doled out the softest and sweetest breads. When he oversaw the fishermen, children would run up to bring shells, delighting in how Darry’s eyes lit up when urged to listen to the sea from hollow crevices.

Tarth would be Darryn’s someday. Jaime thought it better that his son knew his land and people early on, even if he understood none of it yet. He also wanted people to regard the future Evenstar as someone to be loved and protected, rather than feared.

The servants finished cleaning up after the carpenters had mounted the mirrors. A few of them gave Jaime knowing glances and he ignored them all. He could hear the whispers: _What does the Kingslayer intend to give the Evenstar? A mirror to remind her of her ugliness?_

He remembered their faces and promised to have them sent before him tomorrow, and dismissed. He would take insults on himself but never on his wife.

Jaime was removing the hook from his arm when Caron announced that Lady Brienne was on her way to the chambers. Jaime nodded and went on to apply cooling salve on his reddened stump.

The heavy double doors opened and he turned, smiling expectantly. Brienne was flushed and smiling too, her strong, thick arms protective bands around Darryn, who was squealing. He was six months  but looked closer to a year old. Jaime straightened the collar of his fresh, crisp shirt with one hand and went to welcome his wife and son.

“Looks who’s here, my darling,” Brienne whispered to Darryn but loud enough for Jaime to hear. Hearing his father approach, Darryn turned and grinned upon seeing him. Small teeth had begun to break through his gums, which made sleeping a struggle for him and his parents. Jaime’s eyes twinkled at him, his stump brushing on his pale blond ringlets before taking him expertly in his arms.

“Did you think of your poor father at all, lad?” Jaime murmured, rocking him gently. He was heavy and healthy. His eyes were clearly Jaime’s but the hair and freckles were clearly Brienne’s, as well as the heft. They had created the most beautiful giant.

“Caron emphasized we are to hurry,” Brienne told Jaime as she removed her sword belt. She hung it and Oathkeeper on an elaborate hook on a wall. Jaime slid an appreciative glance toward her.

He had been pleased when the pregnancy resulted in the ripest curves in her body. Her small, barely-discernible tits bloomed into full, voluptuous mounds, crowned with the pinkest nipples. Her hips and thighs acquired a roundness where just a glance made him struggle for breath.

Now six months into motherhood, she was slowly getting her old, sturdy form back. Sparring helped re-build the muscles that had softened. The midwife also explained that breastfeeding helped hasten the process of losing the extra weight gained. It was beautiful to see the return of the corded strength in Brienne’s legs, and he loved kissing up and down her muscular arms. But he was also pleased that her tits remained full, and the curves lingered on her hips.

Jaime sat on the chaise lounge, making funny faces at Darryn. Brienne went to the wheeled, silver trolley, picking cheese, spiced meats and fruits to put in a smaller dish. As Darryn shrieked when Jaime stuck out his tongue, Brienne poured wine into a goblet.

She joined them, putting the dish and goblet on the table. Darryn was on his feet on Jaime’s lap, waving his arms as his father bounced him. He seemed to wink at Brienne, who laughed and kissed him gently on the forehead. Jaime laughed at the pure adoration on Darryn’s face when his mother pulled away. _Yes, dear boy. I know. I look exactly like that around your mother. I wish you luck in having someone like her someday. There is no one like her._

As it was hours since they were together as a family, Jaime looked forward to these sundown reunions. They would play with Darryn, marveling at how he seemed to grow right before their eyes.

They moved to the floor, pushing away the table and the chaise lounge for room. Brienne took care of Darryn while Jaime got rid of his boots, so he was more comfortable sitting on the floor. Brienne handed over Darryn so she remove her boots too.

Darryn enjoyed crawling over the carpeted floors. Brienne challenged him to a race, making Jaime laughed as she pretended to crawl with exaggerated slowness, twisting her face in feigned exhaustion before collapsing in defeat on her back. Darryn shrieked and hurried to her, his little hands brushing over her eyebrows, her nose. Brienne pressed a kiss on his palm before putting him on her chest. Jaime smiled at their flushed, pink faces. Then Darryn turned, looking for him. He dropped beside Brienne and held out his arms.

Jaime and Brienne played with Darryn for an hour before he started he started making, “Mmm, hmm,” sounds. Brienne tugged off her tunic. Her tits were already leaking milk. Jaime had barely put his son in her arms when the baby began to suckle loudly, a little hand grasping a pale, blue-veined mound possessively.

“He feeds so strongly,” she marveled quietly, smoothing away his pale hair. Jaime put his chin on her shoulder, watching. When her hand crept up to touch his cheek, he took it and kissed her on the palm deeply. They exchanged a searing, tender look before Brienne pulled her hand back to hold Darryn more firmly.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she murmured to Jaime, her eyes intent on their son. “What was the hurry, with Caron?”

 

“My squire only aims to please, my love,” Jaime said, adjusting the collar away from Darryn’s chin. “Although I confess to having a hand at the urgency.”

Brienne chuckled. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

He kissed her on the shoulder while running a finger down the length of her spine. She sighed, moaning softly. Caressing her, he whispered, “Wench?”

“Yes, Ser Jaime?”

“I have a gift for your nameday. I know it is early still, but I worry it will get lost in the mountain of offerings Tarth will bury you under on the day itself,” he shifted his position, flushing. He had been hard since she had removed her top.

Brienne tutted softly. “How can you think I will forget a present from you?”

He smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “But there’s something that has to be done so you may enjoy it.”

Darryn whimpered, releasing her nipple. Brienne carefully transferred him to the other. “Tell me?”

Now this was the hard part.

Darryn slept in a cradle next to their bed. It was the talk of the entire isle that Jaime and Brienne kept their child unusually close, preferring to care for him by themselves most of the time. But, they had already been talking about how unusual the couple were from the start—Jaime being so beautiful yet clearly enamored of his ugly wife, Jaime never setting foot in his private chambers, and of course, how he never left Brienne’s side during the birth.

It was some adjustment having their baby in the room. They resumed fucking only two moons ago, though Jaime had been sinking his tongue in Brienne’s cunt a mere month after she gave birth, while she had been giving him her mouth far earlier. They could hardly make any sound. This left them only the carpeted floor for the vigorous fucking they enjoyed, but very quietly.

Jaime wasn’t sure how Brienne would react to having Darryn spend the night away from them, just this once. But he had to try. He missed pounding hard into her, missed the loud slaps of flesh and feeling her scream against his mouth.

He trailed a finger down her arm. “I miss you,” he said honestly. “I miss fucking you without worrying about waking up Darryn.”

He held his breath as Brienne seemed to freeze. Just when he thought she would call him a selfish bastard, she turned to him. Her expression was soft with yearning.

“I miss you too,” she admitted.

 

 

 

******  
Just for one night, Darryn would sleep in the chambers that were supposed to Jaime’s. Brienne insisted on bringing him there herself. She did not know that Jaime had left instructions with his squire to keep watch over his son, to report if the handmaidens left him to cry instead of comforting him.

Night seemed to have no existence in their inner chambers. Dozens of candles lit up the room, making it as bright as a sun-washed morning. Jaime did not want Brienne to miss her gifts and their benefits. The mirrors were placed strategically, especially one in a spot that was sure to have her blushing through the night. He poured the wine then tried adjusting his breeches. His cock was eager to thrust past them.

He was smiling by the time Brienne returned. She was surprised at the candles crowding the room. Her sapphire eyes flickered gold she stared at the teardrop lights in awe before finding him.

“This is wonderful, Jaime,” she breathed.

“That’s not the real gift,” he explained, taking her by the hand. She kissed him on the palm fervently as he led her towards the first of his gifts. “But this is one of them.”

He smirked as she stared at the mirror first in confusion, but only for a moment. Understanding dawned on her flushed face as she took in the gold frame carved with sunbursts and roaring lions before staring back at her reflection. Jaime had commissioned a full-length mirror to be placed at the foot of their bed.

“You did say before we need a bigger mirror, my love,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around her waist. In the glass, Brienne watched his arm settled around her, a beautiful, shy smile whose warmth was shared with her eyes.

“This is one of them, you said?” She asked, looking around. “Where’s the other one?”

“Up,” Jaime inclined his head toward the ceiling.

He laughed as her hands flew to her lips in shock. “What in Seven Hells is a mirror doing up there?” She gasped, her eyes close to bugging out of their sockets.

He waited for her to laugh. Instead, she continued to stare up at the bigger, more elaborate twin of the mirror at the foot of their bed. Her face got redder by the minute, and he wondered if he had gone too far. Brienne had to be eased into newness. She could never be pushed. This was the equivalent of flinging her off the cliff.

He was suddenly hot, from anxiety. He needed to sit down. Just then, she gave him her beautiful eyes, her thick lips softly parted, as if waiting for a kiss. He dearly hoped so. Although he would understand if she punched him. But did he read the signs wrong?

Following that magical night, Brienne had become a blushing, sapphire-eyed wanton, coming to him in their chambers after a long day with her tunic already unlaced and her breeches down to her ankles. She filled his ear with rough, husky gasps of how much she missed his cock and she needed to be fucked hard, _desperately_. He was more than eager to please her. In fact, he lived for it, next to waking up next to her every day for the rest of his life. It was glorious seeing her finding pleasure with his body. A blush would always precede her pleas to be taken in particular ways, but she no longer hesitated telling him.

Brienne unencumbered by her fears and securities about her body was truly a gift. She was open to his requests too, often blushing and admonishing him to behave before making his head swim with her kisses. He loved fucking her in places where they were likely to get caught—at least, that was the impression he would give her.

It was his secret that he arranged these thrilling trysts beforehand, ensuring that no servant was likely to walk in to clean while fucking his wife on the map table. Or in the stables. In the practice yard one full moon. Brienne thought they were spontaneous encounters. Jaime enjoyed planning them, however. They didn’t need to be caught by the servants to be aware of their mutual insatiability. He knew the washerwomen often complained about stained sheets.

But Jaime knew that as eager as Brienne had become towards fucking, she was not somebody to be pushed. She teased him about needing a bigger mirror, but it didn’t mean she wanted one. Let alone two.

As he began stammering an apology, Brienne suddenly threw her arms around him and lifted him off the floor. She was going to fucking throw him across the room, he thought, panicking. Suddenly she loosened her hold on him, catching him just as his toes grazed the carpet, followed by the soft landing of his feet.

Then she kissed him.

Like a fool, Jaime’s mouth was simply open, accepting her tongue and her playful nips. Realizing he was not responding, she pulled away, looking at him worriedly. “Jaime?”

He cleared his throat. “Did you—did you like your gifts?”

She surprised him by suddenly giggling hugging him tightly. He hugged her back. “Is that a yes, then, wench?” He asked, laughing as he set her away from him. He grasped her by the nape.

“It’s not what I expected at all,” she admitted, looking at the mirror on the wall then the ceiling before turning back to him. “But I love them. Is this why you all but threw me and Darryn out this morning?”

“Hmm, but you should know I did not like doing it,” he assured her, catching her lower lip between his teeth and tugging briefly.

They smiled at each other and kissed again.

Brienne worked fast. As their lips and tongues sparred, she shrugged off her tunic and he assisted pulling it down her arms. He cupped her heavy tits, rubbed his stump on the sensitive underside of the other as she attacked the laces of his tunic next. He grunted as he raised his arms so she could pull it off him, the action requiring a pause in their kiss.

He gave her a slight push and she fell on her ass at the foot of the bed. Her warm lips grazed his stomach as she loosened his breeches next. He sighed as his cock was finally free. He caught Brienne sneaking a glance at the mirror behind them.

“I can turn so you can see, wench,” he offered gallantly.

Her warm breath was a caress on his cock. Fisting it gently, she startled him with her answer. “I was—I was wondering if you want to see yourself when I take you in my mouth.”

Jaime must have nodded because Brienne slipped to the floor, landing on her knees. She positioned him so he could see the back of pale, shoulder-grazing mess of her pale hair at the back of her head, the powerful muscles at her back. This was not what he had been hoping for at all.

Then her mouth enveloped him, so warm, so wet. Her fingers clutched at the taut flesh of his ass. He watched her head move back and forth before looking at the mirror.

_Seven Hells._

He looked like a man hopelessly, and helplessly in love.

In the mirror, he watched his hand and stump reach for her head, the stump brushing her cheek while his fingers pulled her hair back. His eyes darkened seeing the muscles in Brienne’s back flex and ripple every time she went up and down his cock. She asked him to watch himself, so he turned his gaze back to his face. There. The besotted, idiotic look he was proud to wear because of Brienne. With every slide of her tongue, every loud, wet suckle of her mouth, his mouth fell wider open. He groaned and reluctantly turned away from the mirror to pull her away from his cock.

“You’ll have me in your mouth again,” he reassured her, enjoying her scowl. “But my cock wants to fuck your cunt, my love.”

He helped her off the floor, smirked then flung down the bed. Brienne shrieked with laughter, her tits jiggling as her entire body shook. He watched her push the hair from her eyes, from her face, wanting to see the moment she saw herself in the mirror. Remembering his other gift, she looked at herself and stilled.

Jaime looked at her in the mirror too. Hair around her face, bright eyes, face flushed a sweet, delicious pink all the way to her tits. Her arms were spread on the sides, and her breeches were only half-laced, giving a peek of the pale pubic curls below her stomach. Then she raised her head, seeking him.

“Do I really look like that?” She asked curiously. “After you’ve kissed me?”

“Why do you think I can’t stop wanting you?” He told her.

She blushed and looked away. He grinned, kicked off his breeches and crawled between her legs. “But it’s you I’d rather watch,” she pouted as he finished loosening the laces of her breeches. She raised her hips to help him ease it off her. He paused to take a deep whiff of her cunt.

 _She always smells of summer._ His tongue flicked out, circling her clit. _Tastes of it, too._

Giggles broke out of her when he pretended to growl, nuzzling the curls before stripping the last of her clothes off her.

“You will, wench. You will. But I want you to see too why it’s so hard for me to stop fucking you.” He was pleased when she spread her legs on his return. Her cunt hairs were already dark with moisture and her thighs shone with her juices.

“I want to see _you_. Not me.” She said, pressing her palm on his chest so she could sit up and he was under her. Jaime lay on his back, opening his arms as she fell on him gently despite her bulk. On the mirror above them, he saw her head slant over him before their lips touched. He held her, his eyes half-open. Not to see her pale, freckled ass framed between his golden, hairy thighs. But to watch her as she kissed him.

He moved his head, suddenly fueled by the need to brush his lips on her pale eyelashes and to feel her heated cheeks against his nose. She kissed him on the chin, breathed faster as her lips brushed against the stubble that had begun to grow. He smiled, letting her do what she wished on him with her lips and hands.

She pecked him on the throat, tickling him. He laughed again, closed his arms around her and turned so she was under him again. Gleaming sapphires stared up at him before he dropped kisses on her cheek, toward her neck. His gaze veered back to her face as he claimed one of her nipples, the flick of his tongue making her grunt, and milk warming his tongue.

Jaime didn’t think he was depriving his son of milk. Brienne’s tits were so full and heavy with it that it leaked from her even when it wasn’t time to feed Darryn. They were shocked at first, when her tits spilled milk in the middle of fucking. Then Jaime took a taste and Brienne invited him to have another, the reddest he had ever seen.

“Jaime,” she moaned as he wrapped his lips around another nipple. “ _Please._ Now.”

She suddenly took his hand  and pressed it to her cunt. She was _pouring._ The rich, royal blue sheet under her was dark from her moisture already. Her breathing was rushed and shallow, her sapphire eyes dark with lust. He kissed her on the cheek, licking the scar as he swept her cunt lips apart and pushed a long, slender finger inside.

She squeaked, hard thighs quickly squeezing around his hand. He let out a breath, stunned with the strength of thighs contractions as she tried fighting off her orgasm.

“You’re ready to come?” He demanded.

She whimpered. “Yes. But I want you inside me. Jaime. Hurry. Please.”

He was about to grab her leg when she surprised him by rolling again, this time heading towards the foot of the bed. Shifting to her hands and knees, she raised her round, pale ass to his face. She looked close to tears. _“Jaime, please.”_

She turned back to face the mirror. She was pink and anxious, yet eager too, based on how she kept thrusting her ass toward him. Jaime was shaking from the desire coursing through him. His cock hurt like never before and was an angry column of red pointing toward the swollen pink slit under the Brienne’s ass.

_“Please, Jaime.”_

 Damn, he liked hearing her beg too much.

He caressed her ass with his palm, causing her to stiffen and coo. She was staring at him through the mirror, biting her lip at the tight set of his jaw. “Please, please, please,” she whispered, the muscles in her arms bunching. “ _Jaime. Jaime._ ”

“Don’t come yet, Brienne. Not until my cock is in you,” he ordered hoarsely. She gasped in surprise, turning her head to demand what he intended to do. But he was faster, pushing his head between her thighs, hand and stump nudging them far away. His tongue thrust into her soaked slit.

_“Jaime!”_

Gods, he had missed her sexy wails. His tongue swooped in and out of her cunt, tasting the very essence of her, his nose thick with the musk that was pure, sweet Brienne. Her thigh muscles flexed harder under his palm. Her body rippled as she struggled to obey his order. Throaty cries left her, and no doubt their chambers too. He wanted the entire Sapphire Isle to hear her.

Jaime’s tongue swiped from her cunt toward the pink pucker in her ass. Brienne squealed as his tongue thrust in her ass. Her musk was stronger here, with a hint of something darker yet still so very sensually female and _Brienne._ She was sobbing, he discovered when finally rose on his knees, a fist around his cock. She was red, her eyes so bright they must have stolen all the sapphires in the world. Staring hard at her face, he rubbed his cock around her entrance then pushed fully into her in one, hard stroke.

“Jaime.” His name was her next breath.

He watched her head drop from the force of his thrust. He groaned, forcing his hips to remain still He wanted to enjoy being so deep in her cunt, surrounded by her wet, searing warmth. She raised her head, big teeth clamped on her lips as she stopped herself from beginning him again. She knew what was going to happen next. But gods, their relief depended on him.

In the mirror, her swollen lips parted.

“Jaime. _Fuck me_.”

“You only have to ask, wench,” he spoke through gritted teeth before swinging his hips back, pulling his cock out of her until only the head remained. Her head whipped toward him, thick lips curled in a snarl only for her to moan filthily as he pushed back inside her. His hand landed hard on her sweaty shoulder, steadying himself for another hard thrust back to her. Then another. Another.

Brienne, watching him pant and fuck her from the mirror, groaned, “Oh, gods. Jaime.”

“Fuck.” He didn’t know if he was going to come from the merciless grip of her cunt or the vivid blueness of her eyes. He stared at her hungrily in the mirror. “Damn. _Brienne._ ”

“Harder,” she begged, her own hips thrusting back, greedy for more. “Don’t stop. Please. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop. Fuck me. Fuck me. _I love you so much, Jaime._ I love you. Oh. . .”    
  


******

With the mirrors, they were inspired to try out new positions—positions that Jaime himself had never done with anyone else. One had him sitting at the foot of the bed, Brienne astride him but facing away. His arms tucked under hers, and her feet resting by his thighs, she squatted up and down his cock. She saw more than he had in the mirror, her bouncing body obscuring his view.

He had her watch them on the ceiling mirror when he fucked her the traditional way, but with her legs draped high on his shoulders for deeper penetration.

 _Then_ she had him watch, giving the order with a blush and her long, muscular leg swinging over his head so she could straddle him. Over the fall of her pale, sweaty hair and her shoulder, he watched her body move up and down his cock, watched as his hand lowered to her ass, push a finger inside her, there.

They rested for a short while before Brienne had need of him again. He woke up to find her kissing him lazily on the chest, tongue flicking at his nipple gently before giving him her sapphire eyes. He sniffed. The air was thick with the smell of sweat of fucking, and the sheets under him were moist and getting sticky. But he didn’t move, too happy to be under his wife’s kisses. He watched her move over him in the mirror. She did not have the graceful movements of a cat, but the careful, precise motions of a soldier.

She rested her cheek on his chest, giving him a warm, half-smile. “Thank you for the mirrors, Ser Jaime. I so love my gifts.”

“I can see,” he replied, reaching up to cradle her scarred cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed the rough, raised bumps of skin, hollow now where there should be supple muscle. He remembered how she would flinch, ever so slightly, even if he just looked at it.

She pressed her hand on his, keeping it on her.

“I love looking at you,” he said simply. “I love you, Brienne.”

She kissed his hand, sat up and pulled his stump to her lips. Looking in his eyes, she asked, “Will you watch me love you, Jaime?”

“Hmm. Tell me something I don’t enjoy, wench,” he told her playfully.

As pink bloomed from her cheeks, she glanced pointedly at the mirror above them. “Keep your eyes there,” she whispered then resumed kissing his body.

He smirked, raising his arms and spreading his legs so she could move better on top of him. His stared at the mirror above them. As he felt Brienne lick his navel, he saw himself close his eyes, his throat tight with pleasure. He saw himself breathe sharply as she continued licking him, her hands ghosting over his lean hips.

 _“Brienne,”_ he groaned, seeing his hand and stump try to grasp for her hair. He sighed upon feeling the familiar, sea-roughened texture. He watched as raised her head from his stomach to take his stump in her hand and kiss it softly. _“Please.”_

He could see, and feel, his cock getting harder and bigger as she covered the most broken part of him with kisses. His breathing harshened, and he squeezed his eyes shut to control himself. But he couldn’t resist not looking at his wife. He slid his gaze away from the mirror to look at her.

She was watching him.

“You promised,” she chided him playfully, moving to kiss him on the thigh. Her hand gently rubbed his cock.

“I made no vow, wench,” he grunted. “But I did say I enjoy watching you. Like this. And over there,” he added, returning his eyes to the mirror.

“Then just keep your eyes there, Ser Jaime.” She whispered, breath ruffling the curls around his cock. He saw his face twist as he groaned from the almost-caress. Her head turned, fingers tucking locks behind an ear.

He watched her open her mouth wide and pull his cock inside.

 _“Brienne.”_ His hips lurched toward her mouth. She was _Seven Heavens._

He watched her take devour his cock, felt the glide of her plump lips, the slickness of her tongue. His arms flung to the sides, he couldn’t look away from the sight of him so  willingly and devotedly helpless to her kisses, her strokes up and down the thick shaft of his cock.

“Brienne. Brienne. _Gods._ Brienne.”

His shout at his release caused some of the candles flickering nearby to die out. He growled, his fingers tearing at his hair, his mouth panting hotly against his stump as he thrashed under the stubborn grip of Brienne’s mouth. Her loud, lapping sounds wrung a fresh stream of his semen down her already flooded throat.

He felt the exact moment she released him. Cool air washed over his cock. She sat on her knees, panting. Her face was vivid scarlet, and her mouth had swelled to twice its size. Her chin and throat shone from the drips of his semen.

Nobody should look so fucking enticing.

Jaime gathered what strength he had left to yank her down next to him. She yelped, mouth falling open. He threw himself on top of her and cut off her with cry with a kiss.

 

******  
  
The morning found them tightly entwined in bed. Jaime was curled up against Brienne’s back, his right arm serving as her pillow. She grasped his hand to her tits. Her legs were trapped between his.

The breeze entering through one of the open windows ruffled Brienne’s hair, tickling Jaime’s nose. He opened his eyes, pleased to find her so close. He glanced at their reflections in the mirror above and drew the blanket over them. He was not modest but knew Brienne wouldn’t be pleased to have a servant walking in on them.

He smiled and kissed the back of her shoulder, thumbing her nipple sleepily.

Two years ago, he sought to find ways for his wife to experience even more pleasure with him. She deserved so much more and there was little a one-handed knight from an infamous House could offer. All he could give her was his himself. For the longest time, he had surrendered to a woman he believed was his half, the person to complete him.

Until a sapphire-eyed wench came along.

Maimed as he was, Jaime always felt whole with her, but by the gods, when he was deep inside her it unlocked all the truths in the world. She accepted all of him, loved him in spite of them. With her, he finally learned to love. And it was a choice.

He wanted her, and only her. His choice was that simple.

Brienne murmured his name and he kissed her. She was dreaming of him, probably. He closed his eyes.

They had peace, and if the gods would be so kind, they would have it until their final breath. After a lifetime of conquests and wars, all he cared about, as Jaime Lannister, Consort to the Evenstar, was life in the quiet Sapphire Isle. He’d had more than his fair share of politics and intrigue.

Now he just wanted more days and nights of being inside his wife and looking in her eyes, watching them fuck in the mirror. He finally had a son he could claim as his own, a boy who would grow with his mother’s strength and good heart.

Jaime was done with fighting. And conquering.

Besides, the conquered had no need of it. Jaime grinned in his sleep and cuddled closer to Brienne. Pleasing Brienne, as he had always known, will never be like the conquest of Westeros. He wanted to please her in other ways, wanting her to know that she was loved  and desired by him. In the process, he was swept under the spell of her most astonishing sapphire eyes.

He was probably the conquered, he thought. He didn’t care. Loving Brienne, Darryn, and the children they would still have was all of heaven in the Sapphire Isle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I wrote this as a gift to catherineflowers. I believe that great writing will always inspire others to better their craft. I'm not in the same league as her AT ALL. She's so talented and possibly one of the warmest people around. She has been nothing but helpful! She insists I'm the Smut Queen but nope, nope. That's not me at all. If my stories have been smuttier than usual, it's because she's very encouraging! How can I not be happy about that. And thankful. So, we have this little story.
> 
> Her JB stories are a gift to the fandom, as well as her other works. She was sweet enough to give me another gift just recently and really, guy. Preferred OTP aside, I will always be a fan of excellent writing. 
> 
> Works by catherineflowers:  
> Six Times: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1048089 (gifted to me, yay!)  
> First, We'll Live: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678697 (also a gift to me! I forgot that catherineflowers is super generous too, with her time, talent, and anytime I need someone to squee over JB)
> 
> We Need to Talk About: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1017987
> 
> The Stupidest Lannister: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14513562/chapters/33531144
> 
> And our first fanfic collaboration! https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895575
> 
> *****  
> This conclusion took a few days to be written. I confess to having too much of a good time with gay men over the weekend. 
> 
> ****  
> In case you're curious, Jaime and Brienne would have four more children: Elianne, fraternal twins Jaerymy and Kaeley, then a son, Marlon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> My source for the Andal Invasion of Westeros:  
> http://gameofthrones.wikia.com/wiki/Andal_Invasion
> 
> I don't mention it but Jon Snow becomes the king.


End file.
